


Little Do You Know

by LittlestWolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Slow Build, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4290903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlestWolf/pseuds/LittlestWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek wasn't born with a soul-mark. It's not unusual - your soulmark appears only when your soulmate has been born if they're younger than you. His parents don't start to worry until he's turning four and they realize they've never heard of a soulmate being more than 3 years older. Derek's too excited about a mark appearing when he turns 6 to realize how hard it will be to meet a person 6 years younger than he is.</p><p>Stiles figures it out when he's eleven, but even before that he knew something was different about his soulmate. He's not surprised when he sees an older man sitting in the hospital sporting wounds he felt on his own body less than an hour ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Missing Mark

**Author's Note:**

> When your soulmate feels great pain, physical or emotional, their mark appears over yours and you can momentarily feel the same pain. You sometimes have dreams of your soulmate that have clues of who they may be, but only touching your soulmate will confirm the bond.
> 
> Title and some inspiration from Alex & Sierra's song by the same name. Enjoy!

Talia and Samuel don't even think twice about the fact that their son is missing a mark when he's born – it just means that his soulmate hasn't been born yet. Samuel had been two when his mark appeared. The first thing Laura asks, though, is why he doesn't have a mark (something they will answer many times in the next years) and the second thing she asks is if they're going to get to open presents soon. She decides she doesn't like her new baby brother when her parents tell her that Christmas is postponed until they can go home from the hospital.

Talia doesn't think much about her son’s missing mark until he's turning four. She's never heard of someone being more than three years older than his or her soulmate, and she begins to worry that something is wrong. Samuel, of course tells her not to worry. He reminds her that Derek likes to keep to himself a lot, anyway, maybe he won't want someone at all. 

Laura starts teasing him when Cora is born a year later, a thin black X alreadyon her wrist. Derek, though young, understands what it means – he’s endured hours and hours of playground teasing from his friends – and hates how different he is. Many nights, he cries himself to sleep in Talia's arms. Talia never shows her own concerns, instead she promises him that he's not broken. Even at six years old, he fears being alone forever.

On the third day of first grade, Caroline Andrews starts crying in the middle of presenting her show and tell. Derek is almost glad that he doesn't have a mark, then. He doesn't want to end up crying in front of people for no reason. When she’s not at school the next two days, their class whispers about what it might have been. But when she returns, she seems older than them. She doesn’t giggle about the marks with the rest of them. That’s when they really start to learn more about their marks and the pain they may experience alongside their soulmate. Derek feels lucky then – and his friends agree. Six year olds would do almost anything to avoid getting hurt. 

In the months that follow, almost all of Derek’s friends experience some form of pain from their soulmate and the thought that he’s lucky gets even stronger. It’s not until Joel’s mom dies and he swears he can feel his soulmate comforting him that Derek starts to feel unsure. He’d fallen off the swingset last week and twisted his ankle – his friends had just laughed at him and he’d wished he could have felt someone loving him then. 

Two months later, Derek and Laura are climbing a tree in the backyard. Laura’s daring him to go higher, and when he does, she starts begging him to stop, worry in her voice, but Derek’s not scared – he’s determined to get to the top. A branch cracks and he loses his grip and he can hear Laura screaming from the branch she’s clinging to several feet below him. 

Derek wakes up in the back of his mother’s SUV with a horrible pain in his elbow. Laura is sitting next to him, a hand on his knee, tear stained cheeks. She tries to convince him that he’s lucky, because at least his soulmate didn’t have to feel him break his arm, but it only reminds Derek that he doesn’t have a soulmate. Even surrounded by his family, he’s never felt so alone. 

It’s 6:23pm on April 8th of the same year and the Hale family is having a BBQ outside to celebrate the first night of Spring Break. They’re going to go camping in the mountains tomorrow and Derek’s drumming with excitement. So much excitement that he almost doesn’t notice the stinging pain on his wrist. He rubs it against his thigh, eyes searching for the bug that must have bit him. When the stinging turns into a burn, he finally lifts his wrist, only to see a raised, perfectly round circle, dark against his skin. Too perfect to be anything but the soulmate he’d been missing for years. He knocks his plate off the picnic table in his rush to get to Talia, beans and chips flying into Cora’s lap. They celebrate the new mark with ice cream after dinner.

 

Derek doesn't feel any pain from his soulmate for a long time. While he’s aware that’s not uncommon – some people are just careful or have high pain tolerance – it still worries him. He's afraid the mark that did show up is broken – the fact that he’d never heard of a 6-year difference doesn’t help, either. He sneaks to the soulmate section at the library when he goes with his mom one day, and is even more discouraged when none of the books mention such a huge difference in age. When he tells his mom how alone he feels, she promises him he's not alone or broken. He almost believes her.

He's twelve the first time he feels his mark burn. He's sitting at the lunch table and talking to his friends and the pain makes him stop mid-sentence. The burning is followed by a sharp pain that shoots down his arm, throbbing in his wrist for a few seconds before disappearing. He's still taking deep breaths to combat the pain when he looks at his wrist to see his dot has a thin line through it. He knows it won't stay long, but he still runs his finger over it and wishes it would stay forever. He’s never wanted to know who they were more than he does now. 

His friends are staring, eyes wide. "What happened?" Boyd asks, leaning to get a closer look at the already disappearing line.

"I think they broke their arm," Derek tells him, still staring at his mark.

"That sucks," Boyd says. "Aren't they still really young?"

Derek nods, then shrugs. He doesn't like to think about the big age difference.

He still goes to the office and calls his mom before going to class, though. She tells him that she's sorry for his soulmate, but excited for him. She reminds him again that he's not broken.

Laura meets her soulmate on accident the next year. She's at a gas station sixty miles away from Beacon Hills on the way to the beach with Cora for the weekend when she bumps into someone in the convenience store. She says they both screamed when the jolt hits them.

He's a nice guy, gets along with their family really well and looks at Laura like she hung the stars. His parents passed away two years before, and Laura hums in agreement when he says it was really hard. Their marks burn for a day straight, something that Laura describes as amazing and Carter says is annoying. After that, their marks are permanently apart of each other’s. They mark their wedding for a year later, despite barely knowing each other – the connection they feel already is deep and Laura’s never seemed happier. 

Derek is happy for her, really he is, but the completely random circumstance of meeting him makes him fear that he's already missed his chance. When they’re in public, Derek is no longer careful not to bump into strangers. When they’re at the park over the weekend, Derek leads games of tag so he has an excuse to touch other people. He’s so afraid of being alone – he doesn’t even have to express his thoughts to Talia anymore. She whispers quiet promises to him – “you’re not broken, you’re not alone…they’re out there, honey.”

His soulmate breaks their leg almost three years later, halfway through Derek's first baseball practice of freshman year. The pain that shoots through his own leg makes him collapse as he’s running to first base. He stays on the ground, rubbing the mark until the line disappears. His coach and Boyd had rushed to his side, but relaxed when they saw him cradling his wrist rather than his leg. 

Boyd helps him up and laughs. "Dude, your mate is a klutz."

Derek shrugs, just happy he has a soulmate. When he tells his mom when she gets home from work that night, she laughs and tells him to prepare himself for a lifetime of emergency room visits. Laura flicks his head and says, "Der might not be broken, but his soulmate's bones always are."

 

Derek is sixteen when he has his first dream. It's short and fast and all he can remember seeing is brown eyes. He hears his soulmate’s voice, though. He announces to his family over the breakfast table that his soulmate is a boy. Laura seems surprised, so he tells her to get over it. He tries to memorize the brown eyes that will someday keep him from being alone.

The next day, Derek’s at his locker telling Boyd the news when his soulmate twists his ankle. Derek hisses with the pain, but is smiling soon after. He wonders what he might have been doing and hopes that he’s not hurt too badly. He rubs the mark until it fades away, longing for the day it stays. 

A year later, Derek is counting down the minutes of his last class of junior year when the mark starts to burn. At first, he grins, thinking his soulmate has broken another bone. Instead, his heart hurts. He stands, eyes wide. His soulmate is sad. Horribly sad. He stumbles out of the room, his teacher calling after him. He ends up in the locker room, tears welling up in his eyes. He’s bothered that he doesn’t know why he’s upset, but even more upset that his soulmate is feeling this heartbroken and he can’t do anything to help him. His chest feels tight and the tears keep coming.

Boyd finds him five minutes later and drives him home. Derek stays in bed for a week, an overwhelming sadness overtaking him. He doesn't stop rubbing the mark and the mark never fades – his soulmate is still hurting just as much as he was when it first hit. Derek wants to comfort him, wants to tell him it’s going to be okay – whatever it is.  
Laura and Carter take turns sitting with him, even though he swears he doesn't need it. He feels like a child when he longs to spend time around his mother, until he finally admits this to Laura. She frowns and says that she also only wanted to see their parents during Carter's time of heartbreak. Carter thinks this means that his soulmate's mother died. Derek clings to Talia when she gets home from work, feeling a deep sadness.

The panic attacks begin soon after. They happen often and hit quickly, strong and almost debilitating. Derek feels the mark burn slightly and then he feels like he can't breathe. It only lasts a few seconds, but the mark sometimes burns for several minutes, telling him that his mate is still panicking. He rubs the mark and hopes the boy knows he not alone.

Senior year starts and Derek is aching to be out of high school. He has a baseball scholarship in his sights. A lot of his classmates have found their soulmates over the summer and have plans for a ceremony after graduation. It makes him jealous, especially knowing that his soulmate is not even 12 years old yet. It’s a fact that his classmates also know, and they constantly bring it up. The sympathy toward him when his mark burns is gone, instead it’s eye-rolls and hushed whispers about a stupid clumsy kid.

It's not until Carson pushes him into a locker and calls him a "kid fucking pervert" that he loses control. He pushes away from the locker and shoves Carson into it instead. He can barely think through his anger, so he just holds him there, breathing heavily.

"Bet you think about it all the time, Hale." Carson says, sneering. Derek had been picked for shortstop over him, and he was bitter. "Nasty fucker."

Derek slams him back again. "Shut the hell up," he warns, seeing red.

"I'd love to see him," Carson continues, voice low and mocking. "Bet he's tight and small. Easy to control. Care to share?"

Derek does lose it then. He slams him back into the locker again, and then again.  
Carson shouts in pain, but Derek doesn't stop. He's bringing Carson toward him for the fifth time when someone to his left punches him. He loses his grip on Carson and stumbles, wiping the blood from his split brow. His wrist burns and it distracts him enough for Carson to throw a second punch.

Coach is there now, yelling at them to cut it out, a hand on each of their chests. Derek's nose is bleeding now too, and his wrist is burning, a thin line pulsing over his.  
He rubs it, realizing that he just caused his soulmate to be second-hand beat up by a high-schooler. He feels guilty until he remembers why he was fighting, and then he’s just angry again. Coach is telling them to go to the office and someone is shoving a towel into his hand. He takes it, but doesn't stop rubbing the mark. Still, he wishes he could apologize.

His parents are called, as are Carson's, before they even get to the office. Coach had sent Boyd down with them, instructing him to keep them separated. Boyd stands close to Carson but gives Derek space, which Derek appreciates. They're told to wait on opposite sides of the room until their parents arrive. Derek spends the time glaring fiercely across the room. When the secretary leaves the room to get something from the printer, Carson makes obscene gestures and noises. Derek grinds his teeth and ignores him, but he's shaking with anger.

Talia comes in soon after, a stern look on her face. Derek was hoping for his dad, honestly, but knew his mom would still be on his side. Talking about the reason he got angry would just be a little more awkward. When Carson’s mom arrives, Derek grins at Carson’s obvious disappointment – his mom was well-known for working at the church down the street. Derek was sure she would love to hear what her son said.

"I talked to Dylan and he tells me that you started the fight, Derek," Principal O’Reilly says, raising his eyebrows. He’s barely given them time to sit down.

Derek scoffs. "Of course he would. He's Carson's best friend."

"Then why don't you tell me what caused you to slam him into the lockers repeatedly?"

"He was talking about my mate," Derek hisses.

O'Reilly's eyebrows raise and he glances at Carson. "I understand the jealousy aspect of a soulmate, as well as the need to protect, but violence is not the way to fix this."

"I'm not jealous," Derek interrupts. "I'm pissed. He stands there talking about how 'tight and small' my mate is going to be. Talks about fucking him. It's fucking disgusting."

Carson's mom looks somewhere between shocked and upset. O'Reilly is looking pointedly at Carson now. Talia is rubbing Derek's arm, frowning.

"Before we move on, I want to remind you both that strong language isn't necessary," O'Reilly says, shooting a look at Derek.

He rolls his eyes. "I can't say 'fuck' but he can talk about my mate like he's a goddamn toy for his use?” Derek spits. “My soulmate's still a kid."

"Fifteen is hardly a child," Carson's mother says, but she won’t look him in the eye.

"He's 11," Derek spits back, snarling. "Your son is talking about fucking an eleven year old."

Her eyes widen as she looks at Carson, who looks trapped. "I wasn't serious," he says, "I was just messing around."

"I hope you see that corrective actions need to be taken against Carson," Talia says. "My son did nothing wrong here."

O'Reilly still looks lost, but he excuses Talia and Derek with instruction to take the rest of the day off.

On the way to the car, she decides Derek's brow needs stitches. He protests, fearing that means causing his mate more pain. She insists, though, and her tone tells him not to argue. Once in the car, she kisses his forehead. "It's okay to get angry, but be careful, son."

"My class talks about it all damn day. I don't even think about it.” Derek says, slamming the door. “He’s still a kid.”

Talia nods. "I know, honey. Ignore them."

Derek snorts and looks out the window.

"And the language was a little too much," she says as she backs up.

Derek's angry still. He just shakes his head. "Whatever."

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Excuse me?"

"Whatever," Derek repeats, louder. "You don't get it. You never will. Because you found dad when you were six. Which, incase you forgot, was when I found kind out that I even have a mate. Six years, mom. I'll be twenty-four when he's legal, but have to listen to people talk about it all day. I'm done."

It's silent between them, even in the waiting room in the ER. He's staring at the mark, wishing the line were still there, wishing he wasn't alone again.

He's called back and he tells his mom not to follow.

The nurse is friendly. "Little bit of a fight?" She asks, smiling.

Derek huffs. "A little."

"My son got in a fight yesterday. Thankfully, I didn't have to do stitches. Did you fight when you were twelve?"

Derek's heart jumps at the age. "No ma'am," he says. "But maybe if I had a good reason."

"Someone told Scott’s soulmate she was pretty so he punched the guy in the nose," the nurse, Melissa according to her nametag, says. "He got suspended. Now he's running around here, bothering my patients and me." Derek notices her own mark then – scarred over, no longer black against her skin – lost love. Either by death or falling out. He looks away. 

As if on cue, a curly haired boy peaks into the door. "Stiles and I are going to the cafeteria," he says, peeking at Derek. 

She turns around with a quiet apology to Derek. A boy with a buzz cut pushes Scott, and the two all but fall into the room. Derek hasn't been around any twelve year olds other than Cora, and it's weird to see that this is around the age his mate is. 

The buzz cut boy - Stiles? - is staring at him. It makes Derek feel awkward, so he purposefully avoids his eyes.

"What'd you do?" Scott asks, stepping closer to Derek.

"Boys, leave Derek alone. Go eat lunch," Melissa says, shaking her head fondly. She whispers another apology to Derek. 

"I got in a fight," Derek says. "This is what happens if you fight."

Scott rolls his eyes, but he looks unsure. "My mom told you to say that."

Derek shakes his head. "Nope. Bloody noses and black eyes are in your future."

Stiles squeaks, pulls on Scott's arm and all but drags him from the room.

Melissa laughs. "Stiles isn't a fan of blood. His dad's a deputy, though, so no chance of Stiles following him to work today."

She's wiping antiseptic on his brow now and Derek's grateful. His mate has had enough pain for the day.

"Did he fight too?" Derek asks after the first stitch. It doesn’t too badly, but he still checks his wrist.

"Not with his fists. He's got creative with his mouth, though. Those boys are inseparable. It's dangerous." She laughs, and Derek can see how much she loves them both.

Two stitches later and she stops. "Hold on, please tell me this fight wasn't because of your soulmate. Please tell me that everyone grows up and moves on."

Derek grins at her. "Wish I could tell you that," he says, shrugging slightly.

She laughs and shakes her head. "Well, guess I should prepare now."

Derek leaves with four stitches and instructions to be careful. He tells her good luck with her son.

In the car, he knows his mom wants to have a serious conversation about the situation, but he's really not interested. He wants to finish senior year and play baseball. Everything is just a distraction until he finds his soulmate. 

"Your father wants to discuss a few things with you," Talia says, just as they’re pulling onto the driveway.

"I don't want to talk about it," Derek says, turning away from her.

"I think you could benefit from speaking with him." Talia says, voice stern.

Derek just grunts.

His father does call him into his office that night, despite Derek telling him that he didn't need to talk. Twice.

"I just want to talk about the age difference." Samuel says. 

Derek rolls his eyes. "As if that makes this better."

"I'm worried that you're getting angry at your soulmate. Research shows, Derek-"

"Research shows a negative effect on the soulmate if one is angry at the other before meeting," Derek finishes. "I know what research says." Because he does. He’s read several books and has heard about it at school. He doesn’t need to be reminded.

Samuel sighs. "It's not his fault, Derek. He didn't get to choose, either."

"Whatever." He knows this. 

"Derek. He could be angry too, but he's not."

"There's no reason for him to be angry! He doesn't know that I'm six years older and that we can't be together for at least that amount of time!" Derek snaps.

"Is that what this is about?" Samuel says. “About a ceremony? About…sex?”

Derek narrows his eyes. He doesn’t need his dad judging him about any of this, and he definitely doesn’t need to talk about sex with him. 

"You have a soulmate, Derek. Just because you can't marry him right out of school like your friends...it isn't the end of the world."

"Coming from someone who had his first kid when he was three years younger than I'll be when I can even sleep with him, that's real comforting." Derek says, standing up. "I'm alone. Still."

He stays in his room for the rest of the night, tossing a baseball toward the ceiling until his arms are sore.

His mate has a panic attack sometime in the middle of the night, causing Derek to wake up gasping for air. He's rubbing the mark again, feeling the extra raise in his skin and longing to be with them instead. The mark stays for a lot longer than it usually does, burning and pulsing. He doesn’t remember the last time a panic attack lasted this long, but he doesn’t like it. He can't fall back asleep, too anxious about his soulmate and the reason behind the panic attack that's still dragging on. He ends up downstairs, pacing in front of the door with the urge to get out of the house.

Talia comes out of her room, eyes wide. "Derek Samuel. What are you doing?"

He raises his wrist slightly. "He's panicking."

Talia eyebrows draw together. "He's had a panic attack before, honey. Why on earth are you stomping in my foyer?"

"Because it's not stopping," Derek says, lifting his wrist again. "It hasn't lasted this long before."

Talia sighs, but Derek can tell she's sympathetic. "You can't do anything about it, honey."

"I can't just go back to sleep, either."

Talia kisses his forehead and goes back to bed, an "I love you, try to get some sleep," thrown over her shoulder.

Derek does go back upstairs, but he can't find it in him to lie back down. He paces across his room, kicking the baseball he had been throwing earlier. 

A few minutes later, his mark burns hotter, and then pain shoots across his knuckles. It travels to his wrist before disappearing. The burning mark pulses for only a few more seconds before fading.

Derek thinks his mate punched something. He hopes he's okay. Without the pulsing pain and the raised line gone again, Derek falls back asleep, dreaming of arms that will hold him – brown eyes that will understand. 

Derek spends the weeks leading up to his 18th birthday in bed. For most of his friends, this means legally being able to have a ceremony. Even though most are waiting until after graduation, the number still means nothing to him.

Laura crawls into bed next to him and starts playing with his hair, which he'll never admit to loving as much as he does. "I know you're upset, but at least try to be excited about turning 18." She says, poking his side.

"The only 18th birthday I'm exited for is in 6 years," he says, leaning into her touch more.

"You could meet him before then, Der. 18 is just for the ceremony."

"And age of consent when it comes to us," Derek points out.

Laura rolls her eyes. "Like you'd actually obey if you met him sooner than that."

Derek shrugs. He thinks he actually might. "It's not like I'm around twelve year olds ever."

"So convince Cora to have a boy-girl party this year!"

“Cora’s thirteen.”

“So, she’s friends with everyone in the class before hers.” Laura says, crossing her arms.  
"And what, go touch all her friends? That's great Laura, not creepy in the slightest."  
She flicks his nose but doesn't respond, so Derek knows she didn't actually think it through.

"Don't be sad, Der-bear." She says, in a sing-song voice. 

"Don't call me that," he says, rolling his eyes. "I'm too old for that."

She kisses his cheek and hops up. "I still have two days before you're too old for it, baby brother. Nice try."

 

He has his second dream ever on Christmas Eve. The same brown eyes are there, the voice older now, but it’s still far away. Derek can see long fingers and lanky limbs and then it's all over. It makes his birthday even worse.

His dad bought him a dirt bike, which he accidentally crashes an hour later. The bike is fine thankfully, but his wrist is definitely not. His mark is burning and he feels really bad for giving his mate pain on Christmas. He apologizes by rubbing the mark, even though it doesn't change anything. Talia insists on an ER trip despite Derek's protests.

When Melissa calls him back, Derek's almost embarrassed.

"I hope it wasn't a fight this time," Melissa says, her eyes full of joy.

Derek shakes his head. "No ma'am. Crashed my new dirt bike."

"I hope you didn't break your Christmas present on Christmas," she says, raising an eyebrow. She's setting up an X-ray machine and Derek's hoping to all things holy that it's not broken.

"Birthday present," Derek corrects. "But no, it's in one piece."

"A Christmas baby," she says, smiling. "Is it as great as my son seems to think it would be?"

Derek shrugs. "Probably not."

She grins. "I'll make sure I tell him that."

"Is he with his dad today?" Derek asks, immediately realizing it was none of his business. He starts to apologize, but she shakes her head. He remembers seeing her mark, scarred – lost love. 

"It's just Scott and me. He's probably still asleep, not even missing me. I'm off an in hour and we'll have dinner with friends later."

Derek nods. "Is he still fighting?"

She's moving his wrists carefully on the machine and snapping pictures. Looking at it on the machine, Derek can tell it's broken. "No, thankfully. It only took one other suspension for him to stop, so I'll call it a victory." She laughs. “Though, I think it was his soulmate, Allison, that really convinced him to stop, not me.”

Derek laughs at that. She brings him to a room and promises to be back soon.

"Sorry, Mr. Hale," she says as she enters, sliding an X-ray into the light box. "Broken."

Derek sighs. "Figured." He looks at his wrist and sighs. "Does it need to be reset?"

She nods. "The doctor will be in soon. I'll get some anesthetic started first, though."

"Thank god," Derek says, relaxing.

She smiles. "It shouldn't hurt as bad at least."

"I'm not worried about me," Derek says, lifting his soulmate hand slightly, as explanation. 

Melissa smiles. "Do they complain?"

Derek shrugs. "Don't know him. But a broken wrist on Christmas isn't exactly fun."

She smiles wider. "I'm sure he can take it."

Derek shrugs, not sure it's appropriate to say that he's only a kid.

"Well, I'm sure he'll appreciate it when you do meet him." Melissa says.

Derek smiles at her, suddenly too curious about what his mate is doing today. He wonders what Christmas without a mom feels like and then he wishes he could be there for him. He feels alone again.

The reset causes his mark to pulse again, just for a second, and Derek hopes his mate isn't too upset by it. It's harder to rub the mark now, but he still does it. Melissa sends him home with painkillers and a sling, making him promise to be careful for the next few weeks until it heals.

Talia is acting odd in the car, too happy and too quick to speak. Derek can tell something weird is happening and he doesn't like it.

"Carter and Laura have a surprise for you," she says finally. She pulls into the driveway and Derek immediately notices another car there.

He narrows his eyes, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. "Who's here?"

"Come on, come meet them."

"I don't want too," Derek says. "Not until I know who it is."

Talia rolls her eyes. "I promise you'll like them both, Derek. Come inside."

Derek does, even more confused when a couple that's probably a few years older than Laura and Carter are sitting in the living room with his family.

The woman stands up immediately, smiling wide. "Derek, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Callie, and this is my husband Blake."

Derek forces a smile and shakes her hand. "Uh, nice to meet you too."

Blake laughs. "Not really a good way to say it, so I’ll be outright - I'm 33."

"And I'm 26." Callie says, smiling wide. They both hold up their wrists to show matching marks and Derek reaches out to touch them immediately, his heart jumping in his chest. A six year age difference. 

From behind him, he hears his mother quietly scold him for touching without asking, but he doesn't care.

"How'd you find them?" Derek asks, glances at Carter and Laura.

"I'm planning their ceremony," Laura says, smiling wide.

Derek frowns for a second - he really hopes he's not 33 when he first finds his soulmate.

"We've known for 6 years," Blake says, reading the look on his face. "We met in college and Callie wanted to finish school before the ceremony."

Derek nods, realizes he's rubbing his own mark now. "Are there more?"

Carter nods. "I've been able to find three other couples. There's two guys that live in New York that said they'd love to Skype, if you wanted."  
Derek nods and turns back to Blake and Callie. He wants to know everything.  
Callie and Blake end up staying until 10:30, telling story after story, listening to Derek tell his, and giving advice. Callie knew what Blake looked like for two years before they met, while Blake had only her eye color and voice - Derek wondered if his mate knew what he looked like yet. Callie said that she always knew that her mate was more than three years older, and his mate probably did too. That made Derek nervous, but the feeling of not being alone – hopefulness for his future with a soulmate – wins out.


	2. I'll Skin You Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read through this a few times but there might be a few mistakes still! Feel free to point them out if you see any.  
> Thank you for all the kind words & interest in the story! <3

Derek’s more than frustrated. His team isn’t playing well even taking into consideration they’re playing against the top school in their league. His coach had told him only the day before that there were going to be scouts in the crowd and his nerves were at all time high. His scholarship options were relying on them doing well today, even more specifically, him doing well today. The need to play well was stressing him out and making him edgy. Jackson's given up on talking to him all together at this point and Boyd's probably close behind, but he doesn’t care. He needs to focus. 

Cora runs to the dugout, a Gatorade in her hands. There are three people trailing behind her, two boys and a girl. Derek recognizes the boys as Stiles and Scott, surprised how much they’ve grown up already. Stiles stares at him with wide eyes and is rambling on about statistics of players as Derek takes the Gatorade from his sister. He finds himself sushing the kid as he walks away, going back to stand against the fence – he needs to focus on the game, not a billion different statistics.

They’re only down by one. Derek isn’t going to let this be a homerun just because Jackson fumbled with the catch in the outfield. As soon as the ball is in his fingertips, Derek throws to home plate with all the strength he can muster. Before he can even see what plays out, he's down on the ground screaming. It's either screaming or crying and he really doesn't want to be crying in front of hundreds of people. 

He tries to stand, but the pain is almost blinding. There's something wrong with his arm. Something very wrong.

Someone has their hand on his back and he can hear his coach asking him questions, but the pain is overwhelming. There are tears now, brimming in his eyes automatically.

When he finally stands, he's cradling his elbow against himself and every step jostles it and brings a new wave of pain. He can barely focus on the way his mark is burning, his soulmate's mark thick against his own. When he gets to the dugout, Talia is there with Cora. They both look worried and are asking him too many questions with too little time to answer. He pushes past them for the icepack Scott’s holding, Stiles standing behind him, eyes even more wide than before. Melissa is there too, telling them to go to the hospital immediately. 

In the car, Talia squeezes his knee and he cries even harder. Each turn and bump is bringing the pain back full speed. Each turn and bump is just a reminder - his baseball career is over, no doubt. He can’t even rub the pulsing mark on his wrist without wanting to pass out. 

Three hours later, he’s being moved into surgery. He’s had next to no time to process what happened, but he’s told he’d severely torn a muscle in his elbow. When he wakes up, his soulmate’s mark is gone. An hour after that, he’s told he will never be able to play baseball at the same level again. The mark pulses immediately. His future is over.

 

Derek gets a job at Sports Authority as soon as his cast is off and he’s done with physical therapy. He’s only doing it to make his parents stop asking him what his plans are, but it turns out he enjoys the busy work. Graduation came and went with no decision and even his grandparents have given up asking what he wants to do now. His grades were never good enough for anything other than Beacon Valley and with baseball out of the question, he has no idea what he wants to do. The job gets them to stop asking questions and gets him out of the house and away from his too-invasive family more, so it’s a win-win. 

Jackson works there too and Boyd’s at the garage across the street so the three of them work hard to make their schedules line up so they can see each other after work and on lunch breaks. It works well until Boyd meets Erica and spends every waking minute with her, instead. Derek tries not to feel jealous; taking solace in the fact that Jackson doesn’t know his soulmate, either. 

Somehow, he gets roped into coaching a 7-8 year old baseball summer camp and while he’s excited, he’s nervous he wont be able to throw well. The physical therapist had promised he’d get better at it, but he doesn’t feel like it’s nearly as good as it’s supposed to be.

Jackson backs out of helping at the last minute, and a kid from the high school is assigned as an assistant coach instead. Derek curses Jackson’s existence every morning before the camp starts – the kid is more like a 14th player rather than a helper. The first week goes really well, and Derek starts to wonder if he wants to do this as an actual job – kids don’t require nearly as much power for throwing and they all seem to really like him. The parents seem happy, too – something his boss at Sports Authority tells him almost daily. 

When Carolyn tries to slide and ends up twisting her ankle, Jonathan runs to her side and holds her hand – it surprises Derek until he gets there too, and sees their wrists bare the same mark. He’d never guess he would be jealous of a nine year old before that day, but here he is, trying to comfort a kid that doesn’t need comforting – she has her soulmate there for that.

At the end of the summer camp, he’s offered a position as an assistant coach for all three rec baseball teams the county runs and he accepts it gratefully, promising his dad that by the next season, he’ll be coaching. 

Practice is interrupted one day when a sharp pain hit’s Derek’s chest. He rubs at his wrist immediately feeling the raised line in his mark, breathing heavily as the pain travels to his collarbone and stops. How on earth did his soulmate manage breaking his collarbone at 4:15 on a Tuesday afternoon?! He adds that to list of injuries he needs to know about as soon as he meets his soulmate.

Later that week, Derek's laying on his bed tossing a baseball with his right arm, still wishing he had better coordination. Cora comes in without knocking and ignores the glare he fixes on her. School had only been back in session for a week and already Derek was liking the quiet it brought to the house again. 

"Laura's not answering her phone." She says, laying on her back at the foot of the bed, like that automatically means she’s Derek’s problem.

"Mom should be home in an hour," Derek says, sighing. 

"Like I'm going to talk to mom about a boy. I've seen how they treat you."

Derek kicks her lightly. "I thought you were sure your soulmate was a girl."

"I am." She says, shrugging. "Have you ever considered dating even if it's not your soulmate?"

Derek raises an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"Because people do that, Derek."

"Is this about you or me? People date other people when they give up on finding their mate."

"No," she says, shaking her heads. "A lot of kids at school are dating and messing around."

"I'm waiting for mine," Derek says, sighing. "Are you asking if I think you should?"

"There's this boy that is like, weirdly nice. He stares at me all doe-eyed and talks to me all the time. He'll do anything I ask. Carolyn dared me to test it, so I asked him for forty bucks and he gave it to me."

Derek glares at her.

"I gave it back," she says, shrugging. "But, point is, I'm waiting for my soulmate. Probably. And he's not even confused, he knows I'm not his soulmate."

"So tell him you're not interested."

"I have, Derek!"

Derek sighs. "Punch him or something."

Cora pinches his foot.

"I dunno, Cora! I don't have experience. Ask his best friend what his deal is, or something."

Her eyes light up. "That's actually not that bad of an idea, Derek."

He shrugs, tosses the ball back up.

She gets up. "But really, Derek.” She smacks the ball out of the air, and smirks. “People are way more into messing around than they used to be. Maybe you should try it."

Derek shakes his head and reaches for the ball, twisting to kick his sister lightly. "Not fair to him."

Cora shrugs. “For all you know, he’s one of the kids that are already messing around. It’s mostly my class and seniors, but there are some sophomores, too.”

Derek shoots a glare at her. He doesn’t want to think about it. He wishes she’d never said it at all. 

She winks as she skips out, looking proud of herself.

 

The next day, Derek comes home from the grocery store at the same time his mom is dropping off Cora. There are two boys with her and Derek recognizes them both immediately - Scott and Stiles.

Derek raises an eyebrow at Cora.

"Group project," she says, shrugging. "This is-"

"Scott and Stiles," Derek says, nodding. "Scott's mom's was my nurse."

Cora narrows her eyes. "Okay, that's kinda weird."

Scott nods along with Cora, but Stiles just stares. This kid is either talking a million miles a minute or staring. 

"That's my older brother Derek," she says, shrugging a hand at him. "Mom says you're driving them home, by the way."

Derek looks at his mom and she nods, holding a finger up to finish her phone call. The three of them disappear inside, but Derek leans against his car and waits for his mom's instructions – which turn out to be pretty simple. Stay downstairs with them, make sure they don't do anything stupid, go pick up a pizza for dinner, drive them both back to Scott's at 8:15. She should be home when they get back, but if she's not, make sure Cora does any other homework.

Derek doesn't understand why he can't just stay upstairs and listen for signs of trouble, but he obeys his mom anyway. At first, it's not an issue. The three of them are on the living room floor, two laptops and three books spread between them. Derek's curious about the project, so he hovers in the doorway for a few minutes.  
It's for their English class - they have to make a presentation about a well-known myth and try to prove it. Stiles is currently arguing that werewolves are way easier to prove than aliens.

"You decide," Scott says finally, slamming the book shut. He's looking at Derek. 

Derek shrugs.

"Come on," Cora says. "Aliens, werewolves or Bigfoot."

"Is Bigfoot really your best idea?" Derek asks.

Cora shrugs, looking annoyed. 

"Everyone is going to do Bigfoot." Derek says, raising an eyebrow at Cora’s poor choice.

"By that theory, werewolves are the best choice," Stiles says. "Aliens are just as well known as Bigfoot is."

Derek shrugs. "Maybe. Werewolves are pretty well known too."

Stiles narrows his eyes. "What do you suggest then?"

Derek doesn't actually have any ideas. "Aliens are easier to prove, probably."

"But there's going to be like four other groups doing aliens!" Stiles says, flopping onto his back dramatically. He peaks over his chest to look at Derek again, though, eyes hopeful.

Derek shrugs. "Werewolves would be interesting, at least. Good luck proving them."

Stiles sits up quickly, all flailing limbs and chaos. He knocks Cora's laptop screen in the process. "I'll take that as a challenge."

Derek rolls his eyes and nods. He couldn’t care less about any of it.

He ends up on the couch with his laptop, though, mostly trying to drown out what the three of them are doing while simultaneously having to put his input in every few minutes. Stiles talks nonstop, loud and unrelenting when he wants to make a point. He's knocked over two glasses of Gatorade (that Derek had to help clean up) and tripped over Derek's laptop cord, causing the laptop to fall off the couch - luckily undamaged. He's reading statistics about crime and hospital activity on full moon nights when Derek interrupts to ask what kind of pizza they want.

Stiles insults Derek's favorite kind, saying that pineapples don't deserve to be anywhere, let alone a pizza. It bothers Derek for some reason, so he tells him to shut up. The words come out a little more harshly than he planned.

Cora kicks him. "Calm down, Derek. It's a pizza!"

Stiles had practically recoiled into a ball at Derek's order.

Derek shakes his head, unsure of what made him yell in the first place. "Just text me what you want then," he says, turning and leaving.

Cora throws the baseball that he'd been throwing to himself at his back.

It doesn't hurt, but it still makes him more upset. He wants to throw it back at her but just flips her off instead.

"What's your problem?" Cora says, rolling her eyes. "Mom was right. You are actilng like a teenage girl."

Derek narrows his eyes at her. "Excuse me?"

"Ever since you lost your scholarship you've been throwing a huge pity party for yourself. I'm not going to walk on eggshells around you like everyone else does."

“That was over two years ago, Cora.” Derek snaps, glaring.

“And you’ve been a little bitch about everything since then! No one wants to be around you anymore, Derek. Even if you did know your soulmate, he’d sure as hell not want to be around your sorry-ass either!”

The words sting. Derek's hands are in fists at his sides. His soulmark pulses for half a second, surprising him. Cora just rolls her eyes when she notices him rubbing it and turns back toward her friends.

"He's PMS-ing, I swear. Sorry, Stiles."

Derek doesn't wait around to hear the kid's response.

An hour later, he pulls up with three pizzas - Hawaiian, vegetarian and an all meat pizza - and the three of them are outside, BB guns in hand. Derek shakes his head immediately. "No way you're shooting those off at night. Dad would be pissed."  
Cora practically growls at him before grabbing both rifles from the two boys and stomping to the open garage. Derek just rolls his eyes.

Once inside, Stiles is loud and spastic again, and Derek knows it was stupid to assume anything different, but he wants some peace. He starts counting how long Stiles goes without speaking – and testing whether or not glaring effects the results.  
Derek flicks a piece of pineapple at him when Stiles says the Mets are better than the Dodgers. Stiles rolls his eyes and eats it, scrunching his nose as he swallows.

"What happened to pineapple not deserving a place anywhere?" Derek asks, rolling his eyes.

Stiles just shrugs before turning to Scott to animatedly tell him a story from gym class.

Derek's grouchy by the time the three of them load into his car. Stiles tracks mud into the back even after Derek tells them to be careful. He's telling Derek that he's really sorry and promising to clean it, but Derek's already done. He grits his teeth and turns up the radio, hoping Stiles gets the point. Stiles apparently does, because he crosses his arms and slouches back, looking defeated.

Derek's not sure why, but he suddenly feels guilty.

Cora yells at him as soon as the two boys shut Scott’s front door behind them. "You were a complete asshole to him! Was it because he flirted with me? I should have never said anything."

"I didn't even know it was Stiles! Why would you do a group project with him if he was bothering you?"

"Because I asked Scott and he said that Stiles knows his soulmate already and is waiting. He's just not good around girls anyway."

"Who's his soulmate?"

Cora shrugs. "He doesn't like to talk about it. There are lots of rumors. Why do you care?"

Derek's not sure. "Rumors?"

"Yeah, like that they don't get along but are hoping they will later, or that their parents don't get along, or that Stiles is lying. He says he’s known since he was like, 11."

"My bet is that he's lying."

She rolls her eyes. "What's your deal? No one else can be happy because you're alone?"

Derek doesn't remember Cora getting this bold. He doesn't like it. "Yeah, you got it." He spits back sarcastically.

"He's had a hard life. Don't be an ass for no reason."

Derek doesn't respond. He doesn't care that the kid's had a hard life. It doesn't mean he isn't loud and obnoxious.

That night, his soulmate has another panic attack. Derek wishes he could be there.

 

Talia texts Derek the next day, telling him that the boys will be over again that afternoon. She promises to be home by 6 and asks him to supervise for just a few hours. Cora must not have told her about his blow-up yesterday, then. He’d been waiting for a lecture that apparently was not going to come. 

When Derek gets home from work only to find the three of them with BB guns in the front yard again, he clenches his jaw.

Derek rolls his shoulders, trying to relax, and steps out of the car. "Don't you dare hit my car," he says, crossing his arms.  
Stiles is facing him, gun pointing at him and Derek rolls his eyes. "Didn't Cora tell you not to point a loaded gun at someone? Dumbass."

He hears the sound of the trigger being pulled, even though Stiles makes no other movement. It's too sudden to react to, though, so instead of twisting to avoid the BB, he's clutching his side and cursing. He doesn't miss the shocked, wide-eyed face Stiles makes, though.

Cora is half laughing, half yelling at Stiles as she jogs toward Derek. Scott's just yelling and Derek sees him punch his friend in the back as he jogs up to Derek too.

"What the hell was that?" Derek seethes, glaring at Stiles.

He's bleeding, and the BB is definitely lodged into his side, but not too deep. The damn kid shot him.

Stiles is still standing there, wide-eyed and frozen. He's touching his own side, like he just noticed what he's done.

"God dammit," Derek says. "Get in the car. I'm not leaving you guys again."

"Is it bad?" Scott asks, trying to look closer at it. "Stiles has his license already, if you can't drive-"

"Stiles is staying as far away from me and my steering wheel as possible," Derek hisses. "Just get in."

Cora's taking the gun from Scott, and Derek's just glad he hadn't been closer because that could have seriously hurt.

Stiles finally drops his gun and walks to the car, his eyes on Derek the whole time. He looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn't, just keeps staring. His second favorite thing.

"Wanna tell me what the hell that was for?" Derek hisses as he pulls out.

"I'm sorry," is all Stiles says, quiet and afraid.

"For fucks sake," Derek hisses. He punches the center console, surprised by his own anger. He sees Stiles flinch behind him.

"I was just-" Stiles says, reaching forward.

"Shut the hell up," Derek spits, clenching his jaw. He scoots away for good measure, even with the small space he has as the driver. “Don’t you dare touch me again.”

"Don't worry, Stiles. He's just mad that his soulmate probably got hurt." Cora says, rolling her eyes.

Derek sees Stiles' eyebrows rise. "What?" Scott asks, his voice squeaking. 

"That's all Derek cares about. His precious soulmate's day getting interrupted by some pain."

"Shut up, Cora." Derek orders, shooting a glare at her.

"It doesn't matter that his soulmate has broken like four bones and has emotional breakdowns that interfere with Derek's life. It's all about that mark for Derek."

"Cora." Derek hisses. "Shut the hell up. Jesus Christ."

Cora rolls her eyes. "See. Always about protecting his mate."

"Stop talking about him that way." Derek hisses. "You and your friends don't get it. Just shut up."

"We have soulmate's too, you know?" Stiles says, eyes on the floor.

"Good for you." Derek spits back, clenching his jaw. "Did yours just get shot in the side by a stupid, hyperactive kid?"

Stiles narrows his eyes. "You're an asshole."

Derek pulls into a parking spot and opens the door as he throws the car into park and pulls the keys out. He wants to get as far away from his sister and her stupid friends as possible. He doesn’t even look back to see what the three of them are doing. 

He's asked to sit down but is promised that it won't take too long to get him back - they just need to wait for a room to be cleaned.

Derek hopes Melissa isn't working because explaining to her that Stiles shot him wasn't even slightly appealing. Cora and the two boys were nowhere to be seen and Derek didn't doubt they were just in the car messing around.

His mark is burning and he feels the familiar tightness in his throat of his mate having a panic attack. He guesses he would have a panic attack too if he felt his soulmate get shot. He continues to rub the mark, hoping it gives some sort of comfort to him.

Derek sighs when it's Melissa that calls him back, a sad smile on her face.

"We shouldn't keep meeting this way," she says, opening the door for him. "They're telling me you were shot?"

Derek nods, pulls his hand away from his side finally. "Just a BB, but he was close range."

She nods, getting a closer look. "I'll go grab some things to get the pellet extracted - including some topical, I know you like to save your soulmate as much pain as possible - but the Sheriff will come in and talk with you. Even if you're not pressing charges, he still has to come."

Derek sighs and nods. It's not until Melissa leaves that he realizes he hadn’t thought to text him mom and let her know what happened, but at this point it seems too late.

 

Things click into place the second the Sheriff walks into his room. Derek reads his nameplate at the same time as the Sheriff is extending a hand, "John Stilinski, Derek, right?"

Derek deflates and nods. Of course Stiles is the Sheriff's kid. Of course the Sheriff has to investigate any shootings.

"Melissa tells me that you were hit by a BB. Was it accidental?"

Derek shrugs. "I don't know, I got out of the car and he was pointing it at me. I told him to stop. He pulled the trigger. He didn't like, line up the shot or anything - he hardly moved." If he can get through it without mentioning a name, he'll buy a lottery ticket to test his luck.

"Where were you?"

"My house, sir."

The sheriff nods. "Will you be pressing charges?"

Melissa comes back then, and she sets to work on his side. Derek shakes his head. "No, he was...no, it's fine."

The Sheriff raises an eyebrow but nods. "And I will need a name, as well. I'll need to get his statement for the report too."

Derek sighs. "You sure?"

Sheriff Stilinski narrows his eyes. "Is he friend of yours?”

Derek shakes his head. "It was, uh, Stiles."

The sheriff looks like he could kill Stiles right there. "My son? Stiles Stilinski."

Melissa has stopped moving at his side. Derek nods.

"Hold on; let me hear this story again. You get home; my son has a BB gun. It's loaded, and he's pointing it at you?" He pauses, eyes on Derek, so Derek nods for confirmation. "You what, scold him for pointing a loaded gun at a person?" Derek nods again. "And then he shoots you."

"Yes."

The Sheriff stares at Derek for several seconds before shifting his gaze to Melissa.  
"He's lost his goddamn mind."

Melissa smiles slightly, gives him a small shrug.

The Sheriff thanks Derek and leaves. The room is quiet for several minutes before Melissa giggles. Derek raises an eyebrow at her.

She shakes her head, apologizing. "It's not funny. You were shot and I am so sorry."

Derek huffs in response. He’s not laughing.

He doesn’t see Stiles or Scott after that. Cora avoids him, shoots glares at him anytime they’re in the same room – drives their mother crazy over dinner when she refuses to look at him. Derek doesn’t care – he doesn’t know what Cora’s problem is. The kid had shot him, not the other way around. He didn’t deserve any of it.

 

A few weeks later, Derek’s helping an older woman reload her cart and promising to help the woman behind her, Jackson waiting impatiently beside his check stand – Derek was technically off as of five minutes ago, but he hates sending people in line to wait somewhere else, so he stayed.

The old woman gets Jackson to help her out to her car, promising him a quarter if he helps unload the croquet set into her car – Jackson might be a dick, but he doesn’t turn down old ladies.

The woman that was next in line is beautiful. She’s older than he is, but still young and bright. She smiles widely at him and he doesn’t miss the once-over she gives him.

Derek is proud that he gets through the interaction without stumbling over any words. As she’s leaving, she turns around, promises to see him around and winks.  
Derek knows he’s not dreaming because Jackson won’t shut up about it while they eat dinner. 

“Dude. She was so hot. You gotta go for that.”

Derek lifts his wrist lamely and takes another bite. 

“Right, and the kid’s what, thirteen? If he saw her, he’d understand.”

Derek rolls his eyes. 

“Seriously. You gotta at least flirt back if you see her again, Derek. You’re not human if you don’t try to hit on someone like that.”

So when she’s back in his line the next day, Jackson’s sending death glares his direction from a few check stands down, so he smiles back at her, lets his eyes wander a little.

She picks up on it, definitely. She touches the back of Derek’s hand as she hands him a member card, fingers lingering longer than they needed too. She really is beautiful. And it’s not like Derek’s pretending that his mate doesn’t exist. He’s going to be with him once he finds him – he’s just waiting for him to catch up.

So when she asks if he’s free after work, he nods dumbly. “I get off at 6,” He says, swallowing. “We could get dinner.”

She grins widely and nods as she walks away. Derek doesn’t miss her turn and wink as the doors close behind her.

Jackson runs to give him a high-five, despite them both having people in their lines.  
Dinner leads to ice cream, and when Derek’s cone melts onto his chin, Kate swoops in and licks it away. Before he thinks about it, he’s moving back in for a real kiss, their ice-cream’s discarded beside them. 

Derek doesn’t feel guilty until he’s home an hour later, lips swollen from kissing.  
It doesn’t stop him from agreeing to meet again the next week, though. Jackson cheers him on from his check-stand and demands details the next day. Derek ignores him, ignores the sinking guilt feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

Two weeks later, he’s seen Kate several times – all ending in heavy make-out sessions in the back of his car – and she’s inviting Jackson along, promising to bring a friend for him. 

Jackson and Kate’s friend – Derek doesn’t even remember her name – hit it off immediately and keep to themselves, mostly. It’s not until the four are walking along the water with ice-cream that Derek speaks more than two words to the girl – Jennifer, he learns. 

Kate leads them onto one of the docks and presses him against the railing to kiss him. Jackson makes an inappropriate comment next to him that he ignores in favor of pulling Kate closer.

He hears voices and looks up and tenses immediately. Scott and Stiles are there, standing frozen at the end of the dock. Scott lifts his phone and Derek sees the flash go off.

“Fuckers,” Derek curses, pushing Kate back. “They’ll show Cora,” He says, smacking Jackson’s arm.

Jackson takes off down the dock, Derek close on his heels. The two boys are running too, Stiles pulling Scott along clumsily. 

Jackson gets to them first, gets ahold of the back of Stiles’ jacket and yanks him backward while Derek grabs Scott’s backpack. Jackson has a squirming Stiles pinned against a building.

“Delete it,” Derek hisses.

Scott’s breathing heavily, curling down. 

“Get your phone out and delete it,” Derek says again, pulling Scott back up. He just curls back down, sinking against the wall.

Stiles jerks away from Jackson and kneels next to Scott. “He has asthma, asshole,” He hisses back, pushing Jackson off of him roughly.

Derek lets go immediately, stepping back as Scott slumps against the wall. Stiles pulls an inhaler from Scott’s backpack and then takes his phone. He deletes the photo, holding it up to prove it. Derek’s never seen the kid look so angry.

“If you tell Cora, I’ll skin you alive.” Derek says, stepping toward Stiles threateningly.

Stiles spits at him. Jackson shoves Stiles back into the building at the same time Scott kicks at Derek’s shins. Derek stumbles back into a van, the side-view mirror jamming between his shoulder blades. He curses, realizes his mark pulses with the pain and turns to glare at Scott. Scott, who’s still huffing and puffing for air, not even looking at Derek anymore. 

Stiles is rubbing his own shoulder but still moving toward Jackson again.

Derek curses again and grabs Jackson’s arm, pulling him away. “Let’s go, come on, the girls are waiting.”

Jackson stomps toward Stiles again, causing the boy to flinch, but turns back toward where Kate and Jennifer are standing. Derek glares at the two boys. “I swear to god. I’ll kill you if you tell Cora.”

“Your stupid secret is safe with me,” Stiles spits back. “God, you’re an asshole.”

Derek flips him off before jogging to catch up with Jackson, feeling uneasy and nervous. He doesn’t even know what he’d say if Stiles or Scott did tell Cora. Dammit.

Derek starts to tell Kate he’s too busy to see her, which is mostly true – he just signed a lease for an apartment downtown that he and Jackson will share and he’s starting to pack his room and look for furniture to furnish the apartment. A few weeks pass and Cora hasn’t said anything. Derek thinks Stiles may have actually been serious – he really did plan on keeping it a secret. As confusing as it was – Derek wasn’t blind to the fact that Stiles had absolutely no reason to keep his secret – he was thankful. 

He’s leaving for work and texting Kate to make plans for that evening when his mom calls him into her office. “Do you have dinner plans tonight?” She asks, still not looking up from her computer. “Your grandparents are in town.”

His phone vibrates with a text from Kate. She wants to meet at 7. “I don’t get off until 6:30,” he says, frowning at the desk.

“Okay, dinner at 7:00 then?” She asks, looking up finally. 

Derek sighs but nods. He’ll just meet Kate tomorrow. He glances at the paperwork on Talia’s desk and freezes – she definitely has a photo of Kate sitting on top of a stack of papers. “What’s…who’s that?” He asks, nodding at it.

Talia shakes her head. “Her name is Katherine Argent. She’s been accused of conning some un-bonded guys out of thousands of dollars. Guess she’s real charming and gets them to buy her things and then disappears. Trying to prove it…not looking good.”

Derek swallows and nods, feeling like the room is going to swallow him up.  
Too good to be true. He should have known. He cancels on Kate and deletes the number. 

Derek assumes she’ll show up at work, but she never does. Derek’s not sure if that’s better or worse. 

 

He’s alone again.


	3. I'm Not Useless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think a few of you were waiting on this chapter. Maybe...

Derek's not in a good mood. His soulmate had had a panic attack that lasted almost two hours the night before, and Derek's own stress kept him from sleeping well after. There were two month’s between now and his soulmate’s 18th birthday and he was so tired of waiting. The only thing keeping him in Beacon Hills are the dreams he keeps having – there is no longer a voice, not even flashes of those brown eyes. It’s all scenery. Long fingers gripping a tree branch and strong arms pulling him up, a lean muscled back disappearing into the lake. He knows those trees, has swam in that same lake. His soulmate is here. He is so close.

He was excited to work with his team again, thirteen boys and three girls all returning from the summer camp he ran last year. He didn't know who his assistant coach would be yet, but he did know it was part of someone's senior project, so he hoped that meant they would take it seriously.

He's on the field an hour early, rooting through the equipment shed for extra bats and the plates. He hears David talking on the other side and he stands to greet him, feeling nervous about meeting his assistant coach. 

"Coach Hale is probably in here," David says. The footsteps stop.

"Hale?" The voice is familiar but not quite recognizable and it leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah, Derek," Dave says, turning the corner to the front of the storage shed, head still turned to look at the hesitant assistant.

Derek steps forward to shake hands with Dave at the same time the guy steps around the corner.

Stiles is clenching his jaw with his head down. Derek sighs.

"Is this a problem?" Dave says, looking between them. "I can rotate a few people around. Stiles, you'll have to work with a younger age group so your project will change-"

"It's fine," Derek forces himself to say. "No need for that."

Stiles nods. He still hasn't looked at Derek yet, eyes trained anywhere but at him. "Thanks again, Mr. Ingram."

David nods, looks between them again. "Let me know if you change your mind," he says, sounding skeptical. "I expect you guys to show a good example."

"Of course, sir," Stiles says, nodding. He finally glances at Derek. "We'll get along fine."

Derek nods too. David still looks skeptical but he shrugs and walks away, leaving Stiles and Derek. Stiles won't look at his face, and it bothers Derek in a way that it shouldn't.

"Look, Stiles…" Derek says, taking a deep breath. “I should apologize-”

"No." Stiles interrupts. "I don't want some apology because you have to work with me."

Derek sighs. "I'm not going to work with you if you’re not even able to look me in the eye."

Stiles swallows hard. "Sorry," he says, reaching to grab the bat bag. "This is for my senior project and I really need it, so if you could just do me a favor and let me get through it, I'd appreciate it." With that, he walks away, headed to the dugout, probably. Derek can’t ignore how much he’s grown up since he last saw him – the buzzcut is gone, lanky, pale limbs replaced with muscles and a tan. 

The hour of set-up is spent in mostly silence, other than rushed instructions and short responses. Derek hopes Stiles will try to interact more once the kids start showing up - an awkward relationship between coaches will throw the whole team off.

"I was a pitcher in high school and catcher growing up. If you want me to work with them." Stiles says, swallowing. “I mean, whatever, obviously.”

"Was?" Derek asks. "Why not play during your senior year?”

"I have to focus on school. Not good enough to get a scholarship from baseball."

Derek frowns, remembering his own scholarship.

"Ever think about where you'd be if you hadn't gotten hurt?" Stiles asks, looking up at Derek shyly.

Derek nods once. "Yeah. I’m here now, though."

Stiles nods too. "It's not that bad."

Derek shrugs. The first kids are showing up, big grins already. He goes to greet parents, leaving Stiles in the dugout tying his shoes.

The first practice goes surprisingly well. Stiles is animated and loud, more like Derek remembered him, but the kids absolutely love him. Derek even catches himself laughing at some of Stiles’ antics. The girls follow Stiles around looking like he hung the stars, and Derek is a little jealous, maybe.

Stiles starts cleaning up after, too. His assistant coach over the summers hadn't ever even attempted to look like they were helping, let alone actually help; they'd just disappear at the end of the hour.

Derek thanks him as they lock the storage shed.

"Sure," Stiles shrugs. "Gotta say, I didn't expect you to be a good coach."

Derek raises an eyebrow. "Didn't expect you to be a good assistant."

Stiles huffs. "You've never expected me to be good at anything, though." With that, he's walking away, already texting and pushing an earbud in.

The words make Derek feel guilty. He promises himself that he'll make a point to be nicer - it was never Stiles' fault that he saw Derek with Kate, anyway. And he owes him respect – he really did never tell Cora.

By the end of the week, Derek has a whole new problem. Stiles is intoxicating. He's grown up a lot, his chaotic energy is refined now – still loud and animated, but calm and serious when needed. And his mouth. Derek is going to have to hide any pens during games. He'll buy a tablet if it means Stiles won't have something to suck on. Everything goes in his mouth. Everything. His glove, pens, his sweatshirt strings. It's distracting. Very distracting.

Derek's thankful for Friday if only because it gives him two days away from Stiles and everything that Stiles has become.

That plan fails when Stiles shows up at the front door later that night. Derek's surprised when a blush crawls up the boy's neck when Derek opens it.

"I'm picking Cora up," he says, motioning to his jeep behind him. "I texted her but..." His words trail off and he glances behind Derek.

Derek calls out that Stiles is here before turning back to him. He's dressed up a little, button-down shirt and nice khakis.

"What are you guys doing?"

Stiles swallows. "Uh, she and Scott are forcing me to go to this bar. It has a under 21 night once a month."

Derek nods. "I thought you had a soulmate."

Stiles ducks his head and Derek can hear him swallow hard again. "Yeah."

"And?"

"And not that it's your business, but he's not into me." Stiles says, rubbing his neck. He's looking past Derek, probably looking for Cora.

Derek nods once, as Cora does come down the stairs, glancing between Derek and Stiles suspiciously. "Are you being nice?" She asks, eyes on Derek.

He nods.

Stiles scoffs a bit, but he doesn't look mad. Cora gives Derek a look before pulling Stiles down the front porch steps behind her.

Derek thinks for far too long about Stiles' soulmate not liking him. What doesn’t he like? He remembers Cora saying that there were a lot of rumors when they were kids, but that people didn’t really know why they weren’t public. He wonders if Cora knows now.

 

Cora doesn't come home until 2am and she's definitely tipsy - Derek can hear it in her footsteps. He jumps out of bed and hurries down the stairs without putting a shirt back on, glad to see Stiles is still there, the two talking in the foyer. So much for under 21 night.

"You better not be drunk," Derek says immediately, glaring at Stiles.

He ignores how Stiles' eyes take him in. "Nah, I was DD tonight." He's still staring at Derek's chest and it makes Derek uncomfortable. It reminds him of when Stiles was younger and the kid could never decide between staring or non-stop talking. "I'm not an idiot."

Derek crosses his arms. "Was Isaac there?" Derek’s not sure why he trusts Isaac more than any other of Cora’s friends– maybe because he’s never shot Derek.

Stiles motions behind them. "Passed out in the jeep."

Cora rolls her eyes and kisses Stiles' cheek. "Hope it helped get you out of your bad mood," she says, walking unsteadily to the stairs.

"You made him be DD when it was for him to get his mind off things?" Derek asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't drink," Stiles says, eyes finally moving to look Derek in the eye. "See you later."

The front door is shut before he can respond.

"Have you met his mate?" Derek asks, turning to look at Cora. 

Cora seems to stare at him for several seconds before shrugging. “Why do you care?”

"Why isn't he interested?"

Cora sighs. “His mate is an ass to him.”

"Is he looking for someone else?"

"We got him to dance with someone tonight, but he's still sure there isn't anyone for him. He's just as convinced that he'll be alone forever as you are."

Derek rolls his eyes. "You try finding your soulmate when he's six years younger than you."

“For all you know, Derek, he could be right in front of you.”

Before Derek can ask what she means, she’s already making her way to her room.

 

In his room, Derek's restless. He hasn't felt the burn of the mark in a while and he's starting to worry. Hurting himself is out of the question – though he’s heard of people that do go that far - but he stills hopes he he's hurt somehow. Even if it means momentary pain for his soulmate, at least the mark will remind him that he really isn’t alone. That’s all he needs – he needs to stop being so alone.

Stiles looks exhausted and sad on Monday. Derek doesn’t think he’s ever seen Stiles look so defeated, even when he used to yell at him, the boy always had a fierce era around him. Today he just looks done.

Derek tells him he can go home and not worry about practice, but Stiles just shakes his head and moves slowly across the field. Halfway through practice, Derek ends up next to Stiles working with their three pitchers. Derek can tell he's forcing himself to be happy and connect with the kids and Derek feels bad.

When Stiles steps back to watch them throw, Derek stands next to him. "What's wrong?"

Stiles glances at Derek, a dubious look on his face. He deflates suddenly and looks down. "Didn't get into my first choice."

Derek's not sure how you comfort someone in that situation, so he just says "oh."  
Judging by Stiles' facial expression, it wasn't the right thing to say. Stiles shakes his head though, and is moving back to the line of pitchers to help set them up again.  
Derek calls out to the rest of the team to switch to a new drill and then stands next to Stiles again.

"I'm sorry. What's second pick?"

Stiles doesn't look at him. "Stanford."

Derek raises his eyebrows. "What was first pick?"

"Yale." Stiles says, shrugging. "Don't know why it sucks so much to get rejected. I could never afford either of them."

"I didn't realize you were that smart," Derek says honestly.

"I'm obviously not," Stiles says, a short laugh escaping. "Valley U will be fine." He steps forward and starts talking to the three pitchers again, and Derek knows he didn't handle the conversation well in the first place, so he walks away.

Derek had been planning on apologizing, but Stiles leaves as soon as practice is over, throwing the bat bag near the shed instead of helping load everything up. It doesn’t bother Derek like it should – he still feels guilty about his lame reaction to Stiles’ bad news.

Derek stops at the gas station on the way home, leaving his car running in the parking lot as he goes to get something to drink.

He's comparing two flavors of Gatorade when someone behind him curses loudly. The voice is familiar, so he turns around to place it - it's Stiles. He has his hands up and is backing away from a man with a gun.

Derek drops both Gatorades and scans the gas station quickly. There's someone at the doors and another man at the register. There are two other customers inside, both backing into the opposite corner. "What is this?" Derek asks, stepping toward the guy.

The guy swings the gun at Derek now, raising an eyebrow in warning.

"Jesus fuck, Derek." Stiles hisses, shooting a glare. "When the gun isn't pointed at you, don't try to make it."

Derek lifts his hands too and begins backing up alongside Stiles.

"Name." The guy asks, eyes on Stiles.

"You know who I am." Stiles says, jaw tight.

The guy cocks the gun and moves it closer to Stiles.

"Jesus fuck, Stiles," Derek mocks, but he steps closer to him anyway - the sudden need to protect Stiles is almost overwhelming.

"It's him," the gunman yells over his shoulder, grinning. "Sheriff's kid!"

Stiles is shaking, but his facial expression stays strong and angry.

Derek's mark starts to burn and really? Now is when his mate decides to have a panic attack? He tries to stop focusing on the burn, but it's strong.

"You know each other?" The gunman asks, moving the gun between the two of them.  
Stiles nods.

"Good. You both come with me to the front." He says, nodding behind him. "You first." He nods at Derek and then steps back, keeping the gun trained on Stiles, like he's the threat.

Derek keeps his hands up and walks slowly forward, turning to keep an eye on Stiles.

The gunman pushes Stiles forward and pressed the gun to the back of his head, causing a new surge of panic in Derek.

"What is this about?" He asks, eyes on the man at the register. The attendant and standing next to him, hands up.

"They're a shitty street gang," Stiles says. "My dad put their leader away and they're throwing a tantrum."

Derek hears him curse as the guy shoves him forward in response.

"When is the last time you threw a tantrum with guns, Stiles?" Derek hisses. Curse Stiles and his inability to keep his mouth shut when it counts.

“I was twelve. I think you were there,” Stiles says, and Derek rolls his eyes. Dumbass.

“You, down.” The guy says, nodding at the ground.  
Derek considers not listening, until the gun is cocked and turned back on him again. He lifts his hands further and sits down, noticing the third gunmen moving the woman and kid to the front now, too.

The gunman has Stiles pressed against the counter, holding his head against the display of magnets on the counter with an arm twisted behind his back and is roughly searching for Stiles’ phone.

“Front pocket, jackass,” Stiles curses, kicking back to make room between the counter and his thigh.

Once the phone is on the counter, he pushes Stiles back against it roughly. They dial, holding the phone up to him. “Just the sheriff and that deputy.”

The sheriff answers on the second ring. “Hey, kiddo. Can’t talk, I’m in the middle of something-”

“Gas station hold up downtown?” Stiles asks, sighing.

The Sheriff is silent for a few seconds before cursing. “Who’s inside?”

“A lady, her kid, Derek, the attendant and myself.”

“Hale?” Derek’s heart rate speeds up at the mention, wondering why Stiles’ dad would remember Derek’s name.

“Yeah, dad. Derek Hale.” The gunman pushes Stiles harder against the display and he curses.

“How many? Weapons?”

“Three losers with guns,” Stiles says, grinding his teeth. The guy twist’s Stiles’ arm farther behind his back, and Derek swears he can feel it in his own arm as Stiles winces. “They want just you and Parrish.”

“Are you hurt?” The Sheriff asks. There’s noise on the other side, like he’s hurrying to collect everything he needs. Derek hopes they haven’t already dispatched someone.

“I’m fine,” Stiles says, but Derek can see the tears welling in his eyes and the way he squirms against the hold.

“Just you and that deputy,” the gunman behind the register says, taking the phone. “Otherwise we’ll shoot your kid.” He hangs up then, throwing the phone back on the counter.

Stiles curses and shoves back against the man holding him. “Did you have to crack it? I just got that.”

“Tough.” He says, shoving Stiles’ down to the floor too. “Don’t move.”

Stiles is massaging his arm and glaring at the feet of the guy that had been pinning him.

“You okay?” Derek asks, searching Stiles’ face.

Stiles nods. “They won’t do shit. All talk.”

The guy kicks Stiles and Stiles spits at him. The guy jerks him up from the ground and shoves him back against an aisle. Bags of chips tumble to the floor and Derek’s standing up, now too. There’s a gun pointed at him, but there’s two pointed at Stiles, so he can’t make himself sit down.

“Not afraid to hurt you,” One of them says, cocking the gun. “Your daddy better be here soon.”

Stiles jerks away from him and sits back down, turning his back to Derek slightly.

“Don’t get yourself shot,” Derek hisses.

“Like you’d care,” Stiles shoots back, kicking a bag of chips at his feet.

Derek finds himself flinching at the words. “I don’t…” He starts, frowning. Hate you? Know why I care so much?

Stiles just lifts an eyebrow. 

“I’d care.” Derek finishes unceremoniously.

Five minutes of silence later, the gunmen are antsy. They keep yelling at Stiles and he keeps snarking back, and Derek keeps hissing at him to shut up. The whole situation has Derek’s stomach in knots and his mark has been burning since the beginning and he’s starting to realize it was never his soulmate having a panic attack, but him instead.

When the Sheriff and Deputy Parrish do show up, they stand in front of the glass doors, hands up. Stiles gets visibly more nervous now that his father is in immediate danger instead of just him.

“You think you could take one?” Stiles asks when the three are all gathered around each other behind the counter, whispering.

Derek is surprised by how quickly he nods. “That still leaves two.”

“I’m not useless,” Stiles says, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“Okay, one more.” Derek says, thinking insulting Stiles’ strength is probably not helpful right now. 

“We’re hoping to god that my dad and Parrish aren’t idiots, then.”

“We need to wait until we know what’s going on.” Derek says, shaking his head. “Your dad can take care of this.”

Stiles sighs heavily, glances at the mother and her son. She’s holding him close to her and crying, though the gunmen have generally ignored her. The attendant looks bored, leaning against the counter next to the woman.

“Up,” The gunman says, pointing the gun at Stiles.

Stiles shakes his head. “I’m not playing games with you.”

“Sorry, kid. We have to show your dad we’re serious.” The gun is cocked and aimed at his chest.

Stiles doesn’t move.

“Get up, Stiles.” Derek hisses. “Cooperate.”

“Listen to your friend,” One of them says, spitting as he does. 

Stiles shakes his head. “Let them go and I’ll cooperate. I’m the one you want anyway, right?”

“Cute.” One says, rolling his eyes. “We’ll let everyone but your friend leave.”

A look of fear crosses Stiles’ face for a second. “All of them,” He says. “Derek too.”

The guy grins and shakes his head. He nods at one of the other guys, and they’re both pulling the three other hostages up and shoving them toward the doors.  
When they open, Derek hears the Sheriff asking what they want. The gunmen let the doors shut without answering.

One of the gunmen jerks Stiles’ up then and Stiles curses as his back cracks against the counter behind him. Derek jerks upward too, but it’s to follow Stiles instead.  
Stiles fights against the grip of the gunmen until the gun is pointed at Derek instead, and then he stills completely.

The gunman laughs. “Just as I hoped. You just want him to be safe.”

Stiles jerks against the hold on him in response, hissing a curse.

Derek’s confused to say the least.

“If your dad doesn’t agree to make a deal to get Ben out, we’ll shoot you.” The guy says, dragging Stiles to the doors.

Derek keeps his hands up.

Stiles is still struggling against the hold of the gunman, hissing curses at him. The guy is being rough, more than necessary, even for a hostage situation, and Derek's getting more and more nervous.

Outside, the sheriff is explaining that the rules and sentencing aren't in his hands - he can't go back and not arrest him.

Stiles' scream happens in the same second that Derek hears the gunshot. He thinks Stiles started screaming before the gunshot even, probably realizing too late how serious the man was.

The boy's blood is staining the baseball tee already, his eyes wide as he sinks to his knees slowly. It's like a movie, but this is all too real.

Stiles scrambles back against an aisle, holding his side and eyes filling with tears, looking like he’s begging Derek to do something.

Derek sees red - and then he feels it, feels his mark and then feels it in his own side, and suddenly everything makes sense, every snide remark Cora had made, the way Stiles looked so affected by everything that happened to Derek - but he can't even focus on that, because someone just shot his soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was getting a bit long...oops. :)
> 
> As of now, everything I have written is in Derek's POV. If people would be interested, I could write a few scenes from Stiles' too. Let me know!  
> Thanks for the kind words & kudos <3


	4. Found Him

The first guy goes down with one punch. Parrish is inside, the Sheriff behind him, both with guns drawn. There are more gunshots, but Derek's not paying attention, his focus now on the guy that shot his Stiles. He knocks the gun out of his hands and then throws him back against a display of beef jerky. The guy is trembling, stumbling over apologies. Derek can't hear any of it, can only focus on the soft whimper of Stiles on the floor near him, can only focus on stopping the guy who hurt Stiles – his Stiles.

Four punches in and the guy isn't fighting back, but Derek throws a fifth anyway. There's blood, a lot of it, and Derek doesn't care. He won't stop until the guy is no longer a threat.

"Derek," Stiles gasps out after two more punches. 

That stops him. He spins around and kneels, one hand on Stiles' face and the other on his abdomen, and the jolt and burn of their soulmarks forging into one causes both of them to jump. Derek doesn't know how the hell they'd never touched before, doesn't understand how Stiles is in Cora's class if he's 17, doesn't understand why Stiles never said a word about it, but it doesn't matter because now he's bleeding and searching Derek's face for something that will help and Derek's determined to get it to him.

"Hale, stop the bleeding," John shouts, he and Parrish both pinning the same guy. He can hear back up arriving, and Derek hopes there's an ambulance with them.  
Derek presses his hands against Stiles' side, whispering an apology when Stiles flinches away.

"You could have told me," Derek says, pushing harder when the red stain continues to grow.

"Not the time," Stiles hisses, throwing a hand over his eyes.

There's tear tracks on his cheeks already, but Derek knows he's crying again, and he hates it, hates that Stiles is trying to hide it, hates that Stiles thought he had to hide any of this from him.

He moves one hand away to pull Stiles' hand away from his face. "Hey, look at me. You're going to be okay."

Stiles nods, pushes Derek's hand weakly back down onto the wound. "Don't do well with blood."

Derek nods, remembering Melissa tell him the same thing when Stiles ran from the emergency room several years ago.

"Is my son okay?" The sheriff shouts, somewhere in the back corner now - Derek thinks the guy who shot him might have tried to escape out the back.

"I'm fine," Stiles says, but it's weak. Stiles grabs one of Derek's forearms and holds on, eyes closing slightly.

"Eyes open," Derek hisses, scooting closer. He can't stop looking at the blood smeared on his arm, his mate's fingerprints stained onto his skin.

"I'm not dying," Stiles says, and it's not as slurred as before, but still weak.  
Derek hears a sound of worry and pain escape his own throat and Stiles eyes go softer too, but neither of them comment on it.

Derek sees the pool of blood getting larger, and realizes the bullet went completely through. He moves clumsily over Stiles, awkwardly laying across him to put pressure on both sides of the wound, the blood pooling against his hands and slipping through.

"I'm trusting you, Hale." John's voice comes from the corner still, still strong and unafraid. "Take care of my son."

"I will," Derek says, but it's more to Stiles than John at this point.

"I'm sorry," Stiles whispers, gripping tighter on Derek's arm as backup storms the gas station. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

Derek rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

Derek is pushed away from him when the paramedics arrive, someone yelling at him for not using a t-shirt for pressure, a snide remark about infection from dirty hands added in.

Stiles is the one to shut the man up, but now Derek's staring at his hands and even through the blood he can see dirt from the field and gas stains on his thumb.

"My dad okay?" Stiles asks, and Derek's telling him yes before he even turns around, but once he does turn around, he sees that Stiles' dad has two paramedics at his side, too.

"Derek," Stiles says, pushing up from the stretcher they moved him on, eyes wide. "My dad."

"Sheriff," Derek calls, pushing through officers to see what happened.

John shakes his head. "Go back with my son, Hale. It barely grazed my arm."  
Derek listens, moving back to the stretcher that's being led out of the station. "He's okay, don't worry. He's okay."

"You can't come," a paramedic tells him; hand on Derek's chest to stop him. "Family only."

"No, I'm going." Derek growls, knocking the man's hand off his chest.

"Sir! You can meet us at the hospital."

"That is my soulmate," Derek hisses, pushing the man roughly against the side of the ambulance. "Move."

He clenches his jaw but turns to look over his shoulder. "Mark check," he calls.  
Derek sees someone lift Stiles' wrist, and at the same moment the paramedic is grabbing his.

"Circle with a line," the guy says, letting Stiles' arm drop back to the table. Stiles' eyes are closed and he's not saying anything and Derek doesn't wait for the okay from the paramedic, he just shoves his way into the back of the ambulance.

"Stiles," Derek says, grabbing his hand. "Hey, open your eyes."

Derek's hand is pushed away, an order to let them do their job hissed at him.  
Stiles doesn't open his eyes until they're halfway to the hospital, and when he does, it's with a shout of pain. Derek feels it in his own side too, and he curses and lunges forward, unsure of what he's going to do but needing to share comfort somehow.

Stiles' eyes barely focus on him, but he doesn't look away from Derek either. His hand slinks between the paramedics at his side and Derek holds it tight, a promise that Stiles will be okay unable to leave his lips.

"He's going straight to surgery," one says. "Say your goodbye now, I'm not waiting in the hallway."

Derek pushes the paramedic so he can be closer to Stiles' face. There are tears on his cheeks, and new ones are pooling beneath his eyes, the angle making it impossible for them to fall. Derek uses his pinkie finger, the one with the least amount of dried blood, to wipe the tears. "You're okay," he whispers. "I'll be waiting for you."

"I'm sorry," Stiles says, and his voice is broken. "I should have told you, I'm sorry."

Derek shakes his head. "Don't. Not now. Don't think about it now."

"Promise you'll wait?" Stiles asks, eyes staying closed longer with each blink.

"Stiles, I promise. Don't you dare think otherwise."

Stiles nods, eyes closed again, but his chest is still rising and falling at the same rate, so Derek doesn't panic.

He kisses Stiles' knuckles as they open the doors, and the soulmark pulses pleasantly. Derek wants to kiss him for real.

When he's left alone in the waiting room, he panics. He can't catch his breath, can't focus on anything other than the blood coating his hands and arms. Blood, so much blood.

He stands, eyes scanning the room wildly. He needs to get this blood off of him.  
He does find a bathroom, and he's shocked to see his reflection: pale and wide-eyed. Even his face has blood on it, his shirt soaked too.

He scrubs as much of it away as possible, disgusted that his shirt is soaking in his soulmate's blood but unable to do anything about it. His knuckles are cut open and tender, ripped apart against the gunman's face.

When he leaves the bathroom, Laura and Cora are in the waiting room, and both of them visibly relax when they see him. He meets them halfway, glad that neither seems to care that he's covered in blood and hug him anyway.

There's tears in his eyes and he'd promised himself he wasn't going to cry, but everything is too much.

"What happened? We turn on the news and you're fighting a paramedic, covered in blood." Laura asks, petting his hair away from his face. Cora is pulling them to a chair.

Derek doesn't even know where to start, so he just curls his legs beneath him and lays on Laura's shoulder.

"Who was that?" Cora asks, frowning. "On the stretcher."

"Stiles," he says, voice barely above a whisper. He lifts his wrists pathetically. "Found him."

Cora grins, honest to god grins. Laura grabs his wrist. “You’re sure it’s him?”

Derek shoots a glare at both of them. "He just got shot in front of me, I'm sure it's him." He slumps back. “He just got shot, Cora. Stop smiling.”

“About time you figured it out. I’ve been keeping that secret for too long.”

Derek narrows his eyes, wondering just how long she knew. 

Laura keeps petting his hair. "What happened?"

"Some street gang or something. They were mad at the Sheriff." Derek spins around. "The sheriff. Is he here? He was shot too. Did you see him?"

Laura shakes her head. "He was walking out of the building as we left the house. He's probably on his way."

"He's okay?"

Laura nods her head in confirmation. "Are you hurt?"

Derek shakes his head. "Just want his blood off me."

"Mom's coming after a meeting. I'll have her get you a shirt," Laura says, pulling her phone from her pocket.

"Sheriff's here," Cora says, nodding.

Derek stands immediately, meeting the sheriff halfway. He's already blubbering, unsure of what he's trying to say, but trying anyway. "I'm sorry, he wouldn't stop making them mad, I told him to shut up, I told him to wait, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ever let them touch him, I didn't know, didn't know until he was bleeding, you have to forgive me."

John just shakes his head and hugs Derek, and the gesture shocks Derek. He's frozen for a few seconds before he returns the hug. When they pull away, Stiles' blood has smeared onto the Sheriff's uniform. They both frown.

"They have shirts here, come on, let's find you something else."

When Derek has a new shirt on, clean, white and almost too crisp, he sits down with his sisters and the sheriff again, all evidence of Stiles' blood suddenly gone completely.

"Eventually I'll need to talk to you," John says, leaning back.

"I wouldn't have been so mean if I'd known," Derek says. "I wouldn't have treated him that way,"

John shakes his head, interrupting him. "Talk about what happened inside. We can save the soulmate talk for even later."

Derek sighs, still unsure why the sheriff was being so nice.

"He did shoot you," Cora says from beside the sheriff. "So it's not like you were the only mean one."

John laughs, Derek glares. "I once threatened to skin him alive, Cora."

John laughs again. "Probably deserved it, Hale. Don't worry about it."

Laura's still playing with his hair and he's so thankful.

“And since when did you know?” Derek asks, leaning forward to glare at Cora. What kind of sister doesn’t tell her brother that one of her best friend’s is his soulmate?

“Your last baseball game. Impossible not to notice him clutching his elbow. I saw the mark and it all made sense.” She shrugged. “Sworn to secrecy. He knows too much about me for that one to slip out. I tried to give you hints, by the way. Not my fault you’re dense.”

Derek just sighs and leans into Laura again. He doesn’t care that he’s too old to cuddle his older sister, he’s doing it anyway.

An hour of mostly silence later, a nurse comes out. Derek and the Sheriff both stand and Derek feels like he's breaking.

"He's okay," the nurse says, a small smile on his face.

Derek let's out a breath he didn't know he was holding and slouches into a chair, knees suddenly weak.

John puts a hand on his shoulder and looks expectantly at the nurse.

"He should be waking up in the next few minutes and then you can see him. He's going to be on a lot of pain meds and might not remember everything right away, trauma does funny things."

Derek feels like he's gasping for air again, trying to take in everything, trying to figure out how to feel.

"What's the damage?" John asks, squeezing Derek's shoulder.

"It was clean. Stiles was extremely lucky. No organs were damaged, but he needs to be careful while healing."

"Thank you," John says, nodding.  
The nurse leaves and Derek's panicking now more than ever, the adrenaline gone now, leaving only the overwhelming memories.

Talia shows up then, a long sleeve shirt tucked over her arm. She moves quickly to sit next to Derek, surprised to see the Sheriff there.

"Mrs. Hale," John says, nodding his head.

"Sheriff Stilinski, hello. How's Stiles?"

She's handing Derek the shirt as she kisses his forehead.

John smiles, but he looks as exhausted as Derek feels. "He's going to be fine."

Talia expresses her thankfulness and then pulls Derek's head up to look at her. "Are you hurt? Do you have any idea how worried I was to have my assistant bring in her iPad with the news showing you, covered in blood, fighting with a paramedic?"

Derek closes his eyes, his breath still short. "Yeah, sorry."

"You'll need to apologize, Derek. You threw him against the ambulance. He could've been hurt."

Derek glances at Laura. "Laura didn't tell you?" He asks, taking a deep breath.

Talia shakes her head, looking worried.

Derek lifts his wrist. "Found him."

Talia gasps and grabs his wrist, rubbing a finger over the mark. "Stiles?"

Derek nods.

"How on earth had you never touched him before?" She asks, looking between Derek and the Sheriff.

Derek shrugs. "No idea, Mom."

"Stiles had to have known," She says. "He must've avoided it."

The sheriff nods. "He was pretty certain you hated him."

Derek feels guilty again. He frowns and slouches back. He can't even deny it.

John laughs and knocks his hand against Derek's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry. It never made him hate you."  
That makes Derek feel worse. He just wants to love him. He’s never felt so sure of anything.

When Stiles wakes up, he immediately shies away from Derek. Derek frowns, finds himself reaching a hand toward Stiles. "How do you feel?"

Stiles lets out a breath and falls closer to Derek, a small blush on his cheeks. "Forgot you knew," he says, swallowing.

Derek smiles softly, finally rests his hand a few inches away from Stiles' face. Stiles rolls his eyes and rolls his head to rest it against Derek's fingers. There’s a small jolt again and Derek grins at it. Derek moves closer immediately, brushing his thumb across Stiles' cheek. "You didn't answer my question."

"Tired," Stiles says. "I was tired before getting shot and I'm still tired."

Derek huffs a laugh. "Pain?"

"Nonexistent."

Derek raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not a masochist. I'll ask for something stronger if I need it, Der." His cheeks are pink immediately. 

Derek grins wider. "Der, huh?"

"It just came out, okay?” He rubs a hand over his face. “I'm sorry."

Derek shakes his head. "I like it."

Stiles sucks his head, but he's smiling too. "My dad okay?"

Derek nods, turns around to see if he can see the hallway. "Should be back soon. He insisted on picking up dinner for us."

"I hope that includes me. I'm starving."

Derek nods, shifting to change the position of his arm against the bed side rail.

"You could sit on the edge." Stiles says, looking at the wall. "If you want."

Derek does want. He didn't expect this feeling - this absolute craving to be near to Stiles and to touch him.

In this new position, their hands end up in each other’s, fingers intertwined. Stiles apologizes for his bony fingers and Derek blurts that he thinks about Stiles' fingers a lot.

Stiles tugs him down for a kiss and Derek obliges, wishing to live forever in the softness of this kiss.

When he pulls away and sits up at the knock on the door, Stiles squeezes his wrist.

"Be gentle," the nurse says, eyebrows raised. "Don't put too much strain on your stitches. You could have been hurt way worse." The guy is gone almost as quickly as he appeared, muttering something about soulmates under his breath.

"God, I'm glad I'm almost 18," Stiles says, tugging Derek closer again. "You woulda made me wait years, wouldn't you?"

Derek nods, too focused on chasing a second kiss to say anything else. When he pulls away, he presses his forehead to Stiles'. "Wouldn't have lasted more than a month," he says, breathing heavily.

Derek can feel Stiles' grin get wider. "You're not going to hurt me if you get a little more on top," he breathes. He's gripping Derek's side, tugging lightly on his shirt.  
Derek obliges, careful not to get close to the stitches in his side, thankful for every push-up he's ever done because holding himself up over Stiles would be impossible otherwise.

"Off." The Sheriff's voice startles both of them. "If you think you're doing that in the hospital room, you're both sadly mistaken."

Derek slides off and keeps his eyes on the floor, hoping the shade of red he's become is enough of an apology.

"Ruining our moment, daddio." Stiles says, dropping his head back dramatically. "Just look at him. I have to seal the deal ASAP."

Derek's sure he blushes harder.

"Yeah, yeah." John says. "Save it for a bedroom."

Derek can hear the bags of food being set down but still doesn't dare look up.

"How long do I gotta be here?" Stiles asks. "Bored already."

"Eat your burger and relax, kid. You got shot by a 9mm pistol five hours ago."  
Stiles mumbles something under his breath, but Derek doesn't catch it. The sheriff throws a napkin at him.

"Stop being shy, Der." Stiles says, poking his side. "Dad's not gonna shoot you."

"Yeah, you already did that for me." The Sheriff says, winking at Stiles.

Derek laughs at that, chances a glance at the Sheriff, who doesn't seem bothered by the earlier make-out session.

"I was testing a theory," Stiles says, narrowing his eyes. "Dude, we'll have matching scars now."

Derek hadn't thought about it, but Stiles' wound is eerily close to where his scar is.  
"Shooting you is how I confirmed you were my soulmate, me getting shot is how you found out. Poetic."

Derek rolls his eyes as he reaches for a burger. "I would've settled for you just telling me."

"Am I allowed to talk about this now?" The sheriff asks, leaning back. "Stiles wouldn't talk to me for three days after the BB gun incident because I asked too many questions."

"Whatever," Stiles says, shoving a French fry in his mouth.

"Was shooting him really your best option?"

"I had a gun, he called me a dumbass." Stiles says, shrugging. "There's not a lot of options when you need to cause someone pain."

"Why did you even think it was me?"

"When you got in that fight," Stiles says, shrugging. "I was in the hospital with Scott. There you were, getting stitches after a fight just an hour after I had felt the same punches.” Derek remembers Stiles grabbing Scott's arm and fleeing the room. He had looked so young. “And then again during your baseball game…" Stiles continues, motioning to Derek’s arm. “Shooting you was honestly a last ditch effort to prove that they were all coincidences. Cora won’t let me forget it.”

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Derek asks.

John excuses himself, bringing a cup of fries with him.

Stiles shrugs. "I kept hoping you would start to tolerate me more."

Derek can't hide the guilt.

"You don't have to be here, you know? Dad says the high wears off after the 24 hours while the marks burn and then you can think a little more clearly. But if you want to go now, I get it."

Derek narrows his eyes, tries to figure out what Stiles means.

"Just because some mark on our wrists say we're meant to be doesn't mean it's always right. Scott's parents definitely weren't." Stiles shrugs. "That girl you were with...she's back in town."

Derek knows what he's saying now, and it's stunned him to silence.

"Kate is Allison's aunt. Allison is Scott’s soulmate. Maybe you know that. Anyway, she asked about you. I guess I got defensive or something, because she figured it out pretty quickly. But she's still interested in you, I mean, so if you liked her, you should do that. Go out with her, you know?"

"Stiles, stop." Derek says, frowning. "I want to be with you."

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sold. You hate me, dude."

"Fifteen minutes ago you were making out with me. Why would you do that if you thought I hated you? Why would I do that if I did?"

"Everybody wants somebody, Derek. If Cora's right, you've been waiting for your soulmate. And I saw what happened with Kate, so maybe our definitions of waiting are different, but I mean, the high. The first 24 after the Touch are crazy for everyone. Maybe you're lost in that." He shrugs. "And me? Well, honestly, I've been hooked on you from my first dream. I was ten. Then I saw you a year later and I freaked out because you were older, so much older, but really hot, okay? Eleven year old me didn't miss out on that aspect. And if 24 hours is what I get before you decide to look elsewhere then so be it."

“Stiles. You shouldn’t be so willing to get your heartbroken.”

Stiles looks away. “If that’s what this is, just leave now, then.”

Derek swears he feels his heart clench. 

But he does leave. He walks out, feeling too big in the small room, feeling like there isn’t enough air for both of them and there never will be, like he and Stiles are so different and like he loves Stiles too much already for this to be real. He pushes past the Sheriff, who tries to stop him by placing a hand on his elbow, continues pushing through people until he’s outside, gasping for air.

His mark is burning and he rubs at it unconsciously until he realizes he’s unsure who he’s comforting, whose panic attack is causing the burn. So he runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise their attitudes and actions will all be addressed soon. :)
> 
> Thanks everyone for their input on POV. After I finish, I may write a few passages in Stiles' POV and post it.  
> Love you all! <3


	5. Kisses and Curly Fries

When his lungs are burning and his legs feel like they could crumble beneath him, he’s far into the preserve, the trees mostly blocking the light from the moon. Now that he’s not moving, Derek regrets leaving. He stumbles down, sinks to the forest floor and rests against a tree, chest heaving. 

He's only been leaning against a tree for a few minutes when a deputy comes through, visibly relaxing when he sees Derek. Derek curses under his breath.

"Hale, right?" The deputy asks, shining a flashlight to the side, so he doesn’t blind Derek with it.

Derek just nods.

"Come on; let's get you home. Your mom is ten minutes away from a heart attack."

Derek sighs. "The Sheriff didn't send you?"

The deputy looks away for a second then shakes his head. "Not exactly. I won't bring you back to him, if that's what you're asking."

Derek stands up, only because refusing will cause more of an issue than going. He’s not sure how to fix this one.

The deputy walks slowly, like he knows how tired Derek is. After a few yards, he calls in on his radio, a simple "Hale is with me" before falling silent again.

At his cruiser, just outside the preserve entrance, Derek stills. He stares at it, unsure of where he belongs.

"You're not a criminal," the deputy says, laughing as he slides into the front seat.  
Derek sighs and gets into the passenger side. "Unless running away from your feelings is a crime," the Deputy quips as he backs up.

Derek narrows his eyes at him.

The deputy laughs lightly. "Hey, no reason to get upset. You're not the first and definitely not the last to leave their soulmate."

"He asked me to go." Derek cuts in, jaw clenched.

The deputy nods. "Did you want too?"

"He said I was just there because of the high."

"And was he right?"

"I don't even know your name," Derek says, glancing out the window.

"Jordan Parrish."

Derek shrugs. "We're very different. I've known him for years. And he's loud and outgoing and funny. Everything I'm not."

"Opposites attract." Parrish says, smiling.

"I'm six years older," Derek adds. "And he had about that much time to tell me he knew. But he didn't."

"Did he have reason?"

"I didn’t exactly like him. But this last month, it was different. I was...drawn in. Everything he does is so...loud. But I couldn't stop listening."

"He's good at that, huh?" Parrish asks, smiling. "Hard not to love."

Derek shrugs, unsure how he feels about the deputy saying Stiles was lovable. "That hospital room was too small for him. For us."

Parrish nods. "The high is overwhelming, isn't it?"

Derek chances a glance at Parrish's wrist. It's definitely bonded. He nods.

"You know, you can make the six year thing work."

Derek raises an eyebrow. "That's what everyone that has a bonded soulmate says."

"That's what someone with a bonded soulmate who's six years younger is promising you."

Derek turns quickly to look at him, aware his eyes are wide.

"Lydia is in Stiles' class. They're friends, actually." Jordan says, shrugging slightly.  
He works it over in his head. They might have had a ceremony already, even.

"All I'm saying is you shouldn't make the age thing a factor. If you're going to run, make it because you don't feel interested."

Derek sighs. "I didn't run for me. Not exactly."

Parrish raises an eyebrow.

"He's overwhelming. And maybe that made me go at first, but then I kept running so I wouldn't turn around. As soon as the twenty four hours is up, I'll be right back there."

Parrish nods, understanding. "You want to show him that it's not the rush."

"There may have been better options for proving that," Derek says, dropping his head back.

"Hey, we don't always get it right the first time." Parrish says with a shrug. "I only met Lydia because I was arresting her. When I grabbed her wrist and the jolt happened, she screamed for a good fifteen seconds."

"You arrested your soul mate?"

Parrish nods.

"Did you have to put her in jail?" Derek asks, frowning.

Parrish is quiet for a second. There’s a small smile on his face before he shakes his head. "She was stalking someone and ended up keying their car. Special circumstances meant we publicly arrested her and privately cheered her on."

"Special circumstances." Derek repeats, lifting an eyebrow. "What, like her being your soul mate?"

Parrish shakes his head. "Another time, Hale."

Derek wants to know now, but he doesn't push it. "Can you take me back to the hospital?" He asks, sighing.

Parrish glances at him with a raised eyebrow, but he flips his blinker on to change routes anyway. "I can't protect you from the Sheriff. You're on your own there."

Derek huffs a laugh, hoping Parrish is kidding.

"Call your mom after you talk to Stiles," Parrish says. "She really is worried."

Derek agrees, gathering his courage as Parrish pulls up to the hospital.

He goes straight back to Stiles' room, bypassing a reporter that recognizes him and tries to stop him for an interview. Melissa is further down the hallway, and she makes the reporter leave, but then she's lecturing Derek. Derek doesn't blame her, but he's on a mission to get back to Stiles now, so he ignores her.  
The sheriff is on his phone right outside the room. He narrows his eyes and steps closer to the door.

Derek slips behind him, thankful for the man's important job and inability to hang up on calls.

Stiles' eyes are puffy. He squints at Derek, like he's not actually there.

"I wanted to show you that it's not the high." Derek says. "I was going to come back tomorrow, as soon as it was over. With flowers."

Stiles raises an eyebrow.

"I know now that that wasn't a good idea. You're overwhelming. This is overwhelming." Derek steps closer. "I don't do loud, Stiles. I played baseball because it's the one sport where the fans stay quiet almost the whole game. I'm not good at small talk or feelings. And you're six years younger. You have dreams of college, Yale and Stanford at that, and I'm working in a garage here, with no plans of...anything. I don't want to hold you back. I don't want to quiet you down. You're loud and intoxicating and I don't want this mark to ever stop buzzing when we kiss."

Stiles grins. “God, you’re like, emotionally stunted or something.”

Derek flicks his nose, but swoops in for a kiss immediately after.

The Sheriff is in the room now too. “Call your mother, Hale. Stop making out with my underage son in the hospital.”

Stiles drops back, looking defeated. “Almost 18, dad. Almost.”

“Two months I will cherish and Derek will respect,” John says, eyes firm on Derek.

Derek feels himself nodding in agreement. He turns back to Stiles. “Speaking of-”

“Skipped 4th grade. Too easy.” Stiles says, shrugging. “But mostly I wanted to be in Scott’s class and my parents had some leverage at school.”

Derek nods, glances at the Sheriff ,who’s looking at his phone. “I could have figured it out a lot sooner if I had known that.”

Stiles nods. “And so began my carefulness of making sure you didn’t.”

Derek sighs, swallowing. “I understand I have a lot to makeup for.”

Derek sees the Sheriff nod out of the corner of his eye, but his eyes are on Stiles. He shrugs. “I didn’t make it easy to like me.”

“That didn’t give me the right to be a dick.” 

Stiles huffs a laugh at that. “We have a lot to make up for. Both of us.”

Derek sits on the edge of the bed again. 

“I think we should date.” Stiles says, eyes on the floor.

Derek’s not sure what Stiles means, so he just stares back at him.

“Before we set a ceremony, I mean. If we set one.”

Derek frowns, but nods. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to set one and start thinking about it and then have you leave again.” Stiles says, swallowing.

“I won’t leave again.” Derek says, frowning.

“You can’t promise that, Derek. Like you said, we’re opposites. You could get sick of my talking tomorrow. And I have anxiety coming out of my ears. People get sick of it.”

Derek narrows his eyes. “You’re forgetting that I’ve been dealing with that for seven years.”

Stiles looks away. “Shit. Sorry about that.”

Derek shakes his head. “I hated it. I wanted to comfort you.”

Stiles is still looking away. “You did. I never felt alone.”

“You’ll have to tell me how to help when I’m around you.” Derek says. He swallows. “I…I researched panic attacks after your first couple. I know the basics.”

Stiles’ cheeks are red, but he smiles a little. “Thanks. I’ll tell you.”

Derek nods, feeling lost again. He knows they have serious things to discuss, but he wants to keep it light-hearted and easy for as long as possible, especially with the Sheriff still in the room. “So…How’d you break your wrist?”

“Tried to hide in the attic after stealing my dad’s toolset to try to make bunk beds.” John sighs at the memory, Stiles grins. “Fell off the ladder halfway up.”

“I broke my elbow in first grade trying to prove to Laura that I could climb the tree in our backyard better.”

Stiles laughs. “Did you win?”

Derek nods. “I’m 24 and still not allowed to climb the damn thing.” He sits down on Stiles’ bed. “What about your leg?”

“Riding four-wheelers at my Uncle’s farm. My dad had told me I could drive, but then my mom told him I was too young. I snuck out and tried anyway. Crashed it not even two minutes later.”

“I sprained my wrist by crashing my dirtbike.”

“On Christmas,” Stiles says, nodding once.

“My birthday,” Derek says, nodding too.

“Dude, no way! Tell my dad how awesome it is – it is awesome, right?”

John rolls his eyes. Derek shakes his head, smiling fondly at Stiles. “People tend to group presents.”

“I promise I wont. I’ll make it the best day of your life. Every year.”

Derek likes that promise. He kisses Stiles’ nose lightly. "And you broke your collarbone." Derek continues, "Right after school got out. On a Tuesday."

Stiles laughs. "Lacrosse practice. I told this kid Matt to suck a dick when I caught him staring at Scott's mate."

John rolls his eyes.

"So he broke your collarbone?" Derek asks, narrowing his eyes. He suddenly feels like he needs to meet this kid.

"I don't think he meant too really. Just tackled me with fervor."

"He in your class?"

"This is where I warn you, Derek, that the law does not protect a 24 year old man attacking a high schooler." The sheriff says, raising an eyebrow.

Derek huffs.

Stiles laughs, then stops, his grip on Derek's hand tightening and eyes shutting tight.

Derek's worried immediately, moving in close to him to figure it out.

The sheriff is standing too, eyes worried.

Stiles relaxes finally, dropping his head back slowly and opening his eyes. "Okay. Don't make me laugh. Seriously."

Derek let's out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. John pushes the call button for the nurse. "We'll have them kick it up a notch. And then it might be time for you to head home, Hale."

Stiles eyes go wide. "He can stay, dad, come on." He looks at Derek. "If he wants, I mean. Don't you want to stay?"

Derek nods, turns to look at the Sheriff too.

He sighs. "Fine. But you need to call your mother. Parrish called her already but I'm sure she'd like to hear from you. And you need to get some sleep tonight." He looks between them. "Both of you do."

Stiles cheers, lifts a hand for his dad to high-five. The sheriff does so lazily, rolling his eyes.

Derek steps out to call his mom, nervous about the lecture he's sure to receive.  
Instead, she just sounds relieved. "You can't just run off, Derek."

"I'm 24. I’m moved out, I’m a big kid.”

“You’re still my son. We have a lot to discuss.”

“I have a lot more to discuss with Stiles.”

Talia sighs. “Be gentle, Derek. Be kind.”

“I’m trying,” He grits out. He doesn’t need his mom reminding him how bad he is with socializing, too.

“Call me in the morning, Derek. Love you.”

He tells her he loves her, too, and then hangs up. He pauses before he goes back into the room, listening to the conversation between the Sheriff and Stiles.

“I’m serious about waiting, Stiles. You’ve been set on this guy since you found out, I get it. But just because Parrish and Lydia figured it all out doesn’t mean you will.”

“Gee, thanks for the encouragement.”

“You know I’ll support you. I just won’t lie to you.” John sighs. “He doesn’t have the best record, Stiles.”

“And I do?” Stiles cuts back.

“It doesn’t matter – as the older one, he’s supposed to be a leader. He needs to step up.”

“I intend to,” Derek says, stepping inside. He crosses his arms, feeling suddenly defenseless.

The Sheriff sighs and Stiles is glaring at his father. “You understand that I want to protect my son, Hale.”

“Can you save the lecture?” Stiles says, crossing his arms. “Honestly. No manners.”

John rolls his eyes. “I’m going back to the station to work on paperwork. I’ll have a nurse coming in to make sure you’re not…I’ll have someone checking in. Call me if anything goes wrong.”

Stiles makes a shooing motion with his hand. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

John shakes his head, eyes shifting to a more fond look before leaving the room. 

 

Derek takes a deep breath as Stiles launches into a speech again. “So we both have stuff to work on. I was an annoying piece of shit for the entirety that you’ve known me. You were an asshole because of that. It’s not like we can’t move on.” Stiles sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than anything.

“I shouldn’t have been an asshole to a kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore. You do see that, right?”

Derek nods. Definitely. 

“Because in two months…I’m gonna climb you like a tree.”

“Don’t break your wrist.” Derek says, quirking a smile at him.

Stiles laughs. “I might tire it out before we even get to that point. You’re like a walking Greek-god.”

Derek rolls his eyes but he knows his ears are red at the idea of Stiles jerking off to thoughts of him.

“But we should definitely keep kissing. I don’t have as much practice as you do.” Stiles winces at his own comment, like he doesn’t even have a filter at all – Derek thinks he actually might not. 

“She was a scam artist, you know?” Derek says, swallowing. He moves to sit on the bed again. “My mom was trying to make a case against her.”

Stiles’ eyebrows raise. “What kind of scam artist? Did she take attractive people’s DNA and sell it on the black market – get your perfect boyfriend with just a simple cloning process!”

Derek laughs. “She seduced un-bonded mates and cheated them out of their money. I stopped seeing her as soon as I found out. That doesn’t fix that I did see her.”

Stiles seems to think it over, then shrugs. “I didn’t really expect you to wait for me ever, really. Like, Cora would preach it at me when she could tell I was down about it, but realistically I knew it wouldn’t happen.”

“I only ever kissed her.” Derek says, jaw tight. “It never…it never got much further than that.”

Stiles eyebrows lift again. “Seriously?”

Derek nods.

“That’s…impressive, actually. She was hot.”

Derek huffs a laugh. “And apparently psychotic.”

“She tried to attack my friend, once.” Stiles says, nodding along with Derek’s statement. 

It’s Derek’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Lydia got a little upset about her being with you. She kinda…she may have stalked Kate a little bit. And keyed her car. And then Kate came out, screaming and yelling and she had a tire-iron.”

Derek connects the story immediately with what Parrish told him in the car. “You’re telling me that the only reason your dad’s deputy and Lydia met is because she was trying to get revenge in your honor?”

Stiles smiles triumphantly. “I take great pride in this. I’m Parrish’ best man at the ceremony.”

Derek laughs. “And Lydia didn’t get in serious trouble because your dad was okay with it.”

Stiles smiles again. “Pops was proud of Lyds, that’s for sure.”

Derek shakes his head, laughing. “I’ll keep that in mind – don’t mess with Lydia.”

Stiles nods seriously. “She’s 120 pounds of pure brilliance, dude.”

“And she probably hates me, right?”

Stiles quirks a smile. “She’ll get it over it, dude. Let her take you shopping with her once and all will be forgiven.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “I hate shopping.”

“It’s one of the only apology languages that Lydia speaks, dude. Can’t help you there.” 

Derek thinks he could survive it, if it means Stiles’ friends liking him. “What about you? What date can I take you on that helps toward the apology side of what I need to do to win you over?”

“Kisses and curly fries, dude. Definitely.”

Derek decides that for tonight, he can at least start on the kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a short chapter!  
> My house was broken into a few nights ago and I have been dealing with all of that. Thanks for the patience & kind words.


End file.
